


I ■ 



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ELEMENTS 



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af$uteijircitinui Pifitoiw#tos 



DESIGNED A3 A TEXT-BOOK- 



S^erwvo^ :<*v^^t^ 



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PORTLAND, 

PUBLISHED BY WIL1 1AM HYDE. 
JOSEPH GRIFFIN— PRINTER— 3RUNSWKK. 

1827, 



3& 



DISTRICT OF MAINE, u. 

BE IT REMEMBERED. That on this 20th day of January, A.D. 1827, 
in the fifty first, year of the Independent e of the United States of Amer- 
ica Mr Thomas C Upham.oi the District of Maine, has deposited in this 
office the lirb- of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in lha 
word* following, viz. 

'■ Elements of Intel ectval Philosophy, designed as a Text-Book. 
Portlanu, published by l\ illiam Hyde Jus ph (JnJ/.n, prirUefa Bruns- 
wick 18^7.*' 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, "Aa 
act lor the encouragement of learning by securing the copies of maps, 
charts, and books to the authors and proprietors of such copies duiing the 
times therein mentioned ;" and al*o »o an act, entitled "An act, «upple- 
menraiy to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning-, by 
securing 'he copies of maps., charts -and books to the authors and proprietors 
of such copies dining the limes therein mentioned ; and extending the bene- 
fits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical, and 
ofkar prints." 

JQH*N MUSSEY, Jun. Clerk of the District Court (f JMaww. 



stfS 



This book professes to be a compilation, from a consid- 
erable number of authors, of those facts and opinions in In- 
tellectual Philosophy, which seemed to the writer most 
worthy to be received The authors, who have been chief- 
ly consu ted, will be found mentioned in the course of the 
work ; and, in some instances, a few remarks hava been 
made on tht chars cter of their writings. Locke, Stewart, 
and Brown have afford id a greater si are of tie materials 
than others ; Condillac, Eeattie, Malebranche, Hume, Reid, 
Berkeky, dc. lave Leen carefully consulted. In a few 
instances, the statements of these writers have been admit- 
ted with only slight variations, when it was thought they 
had been pecu iarlv happy in them. 

The work sets forth no other pretensions, than what is 
purported in the title page, viz. as a text-book. As such, 
it is hoped, it will be found acceptable tr> instructers and 
students. A book of this kind, in this important depart- 
ment of science, has been for a long time needed ; and the 
present attt mpt towards supplying the deficiency is submit- 
ted to the candid judgment of the publick. 



! 



Contents 



Chap, i.— UWlv n f Intellectual 
Philosophy. 

Sect 

I 

2 

4 
h 

6 



Prejudice existing again ' ihh setence 
Of the Metaphysics of the schools 
Supposed practical inutility of this science 
Its suppo^d practical inutility answered 
Teaches us how to direct our inquiries 
Remark* of Mr. Locke on this point 
Help,- us i„ the correction of mental errours 7 
Is the gratification of a reasonable curiosity 8 
A M;j in directing education 
Instructs in the nature of language 
Has a <:onnexion with moral philosophy 
Teaches to revere the divine wisrom 
Mental effort necessary in this study 



Chap, ii.— Primary Truths 

Intro'Tiictorv remarks on this subject 14 

Belief in our personal existence 15 

Bel.ef of our personal identity 16 

The external, material world ha* existence 17 
Lonfi deuce i* to he repo-t d in the memory l« 
Man susceptible of i varety of emotions 19 
I his subject viewed in refei et.ee to God 2t> 

Chap, in.— Perception. 



Clarifications of our intellectual powers 

CJttSMfication into understanding and will 

Class, fif.,., „ ; n , active powers, 4:c. 

Of the objects of petcep ion 

Of the primary qualities of bodies 

Of the sense of smell 

Of the nen*e of taste 

Ol the sense of bearing and of sounds 

Manner of leni'nii-g- .he place of sounds 

Connection of hearing with language 

Of the sense of touch 

Of the benefit* of the sen«e of sight 

Mode or process in visual perception 

Connexion of the brain with perception 

Impressions on the semes and perceptions 

Of the estimation nf distances by fight 

Further illustrations of this subject 

Idea of extension not originally from sight 

M«esurem«DU of magnitude by the eye 



Knowledge of the figure of bodies by sight 40 
The senses reciprocally assist each other 41 
^ riters on our visual perception!' 42 

Chap, iv- — No Innate Knowl- 
edge. 

innate ideas before th* time of Mr. Locke 43 
Enumeration of innate principles 44 

Argument on subject of innaie knowledge 45 
VI r. Locke's opinions on thi* subject 46 

Opinions of Plato and Ari-totle. 47 

Prevailing opinions at the present time 48 

Chap. v. — Origin of Simple 
Ideas. 

Simple ideas received from the senses, fyc. 49 
Of verbal explanations of simple ideas 50 
Division of our simple ideas 51 

Of simple ideas from one sense only 52 

mple itlea< from more than one sense 53 
Of Mm pie ideas from tetlection 54 

-imple ideas irom a'l the above sources 55 
Of exigence, unity, and succession 56 

Origin of out idea of power 57 

Kvidente for this account of the origin of 

our ideas 53 

Simple ideas the element of out knowledge 59 

Chap. vi. — Simple and Mixed 
Modes. 

Division of complex idea? into three kinds 60 
of (oniplex ideas called simple modes 61 

62 
63 
64 
65 
06 
67 



Instance of skill in the u*e of numbers 

Simple modes from duration 

Simple nodes from extension 

Idea of infii ity 

Complex ideas called mixed modes 

Three ways of forming mixed modes 68 

Not the same mixed modes in all languages 69 



Chap. vn. — Ideas of Substance. 

What under Hood by id«»* of aubsUnee 79 



CONTENTS. 



Sect. 
Spiritual existences included under this class 
Knowledge of spirit the same as of matter 72 
Cohesion of bodies and motion by impulse 73 
Explanations on ideas of this class 74 

On complexity in the state* of the mind 75 
Connection existing between material sub- 
stances 76 
Of chimerical ideas of sub'tancea 77 
Of what is meant by real ideas 7« 
Importance of having real ideas 79 
Of our ideas of ang>>ls 80 
Origin of the idea of God 81 

Chap. viii. — Ideas of Relation. 

What we understand by ideas of relation 82 

Great number of our ideas of relation 83 

Of ihe use of corrective terms 84 

Of proportional relation* 85 

Of certain relative terms 8 b' 

Of idea* of natural relations 87 

Ideas of conventional relations 8tt 

Plare is an idea of relation 89 
Chronological dales involve ideas of relation 

Can»e and eHect idea* of relation 90 

Modes, »Vc resolvable into simple ideas 91 

The mind should be furnished with ideas 92 

Chap, ix.— Of Apparitions. 

What we are to understand by apparitions 93 
Connexion between the mind and body 94 
This subject illustrated from Shakespeare 91 
Appearance of Caesar's gho«u to Brutus 96 
Confessions of an English opium-eater 96 
Of temporary mental excitements 97 

Stat* of i he mind in drowning 98 

Of the apparitions ofNicolai 99 

Instance similar to the preceding 100 

Second right of the Scotch Highlanders 101 
Gho>ts and other spectral appearances 102 
Of the apparitions of the religious 103 

Chap, x.— Origin of Signs of 
Thought. 

Mental operation" are to he nmde known 104 
Thoughts first expressed by gestures, 8fC. 105 
An of Pantomime among the Romans 106 
Thoughts expressed by symbolick actions 107 
Objections to the symbolick language of 

scripture 1°8 

Pictorial delineations as signs of thought 109 
Of hieroglyphic il writing 110 

Written characters of the Chinese 111 

The Chinese chancier an improvement 

on the hierog'yphical 1 12 

Alphabeiick language a subject of dispute 113 



Chap. xi. — Use of Words. 

Excellence of alphabetical language 
Words are artificial and arbitrary signs 



114 
11$ 



Sect. 
Words at first few in number, 4re»- " US 
Formation of general names 1 if 

Appellative, the result of a feeling of re- 
semblance IIS 
Our earliest generalizations often incor- 
rect 119 
Illustration from the savages of Wateeoo 12ft 
Reasoning without general terms 12! 
Of the formation of verbs 121 
Formation of conjunctions and other par* 

tides 123 

Remarks on the meaning of particles 124 
Origin of particular or proper names 125 
Of words as used bv different persons 126 
We have not words for all our ideas 127 
Of the definition of words 128 

Of i be imperfection of language 129 

Words not to he used wi-hout meaning 13Q 
Word* should stand for distinct ideas l3l 
The same word not to he used at the same 

time in different senses 132 

Words are to be employed agreeably to 

good and reputable u-e 133 

What constitutes good and reputable use 134 

Of an universal language 135 

Remarks of < ondillacon the changes, and 

corruptions of language 136 

Chap. xii. — Charar.teristicks of 
Languages. 

Remarks on peculiarities of style 137 

Of style in uncivilued nations 138 

Origin of apologue*, SfC. 139 

Myle of civilized nations 140 
Languages depend much on the habits, 

#c of the people 141 

Languages and national character 14% 

National intellect Sf progress of language 143 

Languages as suited to d fferent minds 144 
Translating fiom one language to another 145 

Of the Greek and Lann languages 148 

Characteristic!** of the Italian language 147 

(.'haractf-risticks of the Spanish language 148 

Requisites of an interpreter of languages 149 

Chap, xiii.— Principles of Men- 
tal Association. 

Of the meaning of mental association 150 
The first general principle of association 151 
Resemblance in every particular not ne- 

nessary 15? 

Of resemblances in the effects produced 153 
Resemblances in sounds ; alliteration 154 
Contrast the second genera! principle 155 
Practical applications of this principle 156 
This principle of association $• antithesis 157 
Contiguity the third general principle 158 
Cau-e and effect the fourth primary prin* 

ciple 159 

Secondary principles ofmental as&oeiaton 160 
Of genius in connexion with association 161 



CONTENTS 



Sect. 
Dependence ©f transitions In style on as- 
sociation 162 
Associations suggested by present object* 163 
Habits resolved into mental association 164 
Historical remarks on association 165 

Chap. xiv. — Casual Connections 
of Thought. 

Association some'imes misleads our judg- 
ments 166 
Connexion of ideas of e&ten°ion and time 167 
Of high and low notes in musick IH8 
Connection of ideas of extension t!jr colour 169 
Wbether there be heat in fire. $'C 1*'* 
/Whether there be mean.ng in words 171 
Be.iefi <vt examining' such association? Ml 
Power of the will over mental associations 173 

Chap. xv. — Of Attention. 

Nature of attention, fyc 174 

Depende ice of memory on attention 175 

Rapidity in attending to different objects 176 

Of attention in connection with hat)its 177 

Attention in legerdemain 8? ventriloquism 178 
Of attending to more than one object at 

the *ame time 179 

Of attending to different parts in musick 180 

Attention in the perception of objects 181 

Rapidit) of attention in criticism 182 

Attention when one .f the sen-es is lost 18 i 

Of attention in men inactive life 1K4 

Of exercising attention in reading 185 

Chap, xvi.— Of Conceptions. 

Meaning of conceptions. SfC. 186 

Of < onceptions of objects of sight 187 

Influence of habit on our conceptions 188 
Subserviency of conception* to description 
Of conceptions attended with belief 190 

Conceptions .when joined with percept ions 191 
Conceptions at tragical representations 192 
Conceptions and apparitions 193 

Chap. xvii. — Of Abstract Ideas. 

Definition 8nd kinds of abstract ideas 194 
Formation of particular abstract ideas 195 
Generalizations of particular abstract ideas 
Of particular abstractions in poetry, 4* e - 137 
Of general abstract ideas 198 

Of perceptions of relations 199 

Of th« clarification of objects 200 

Abstract ideas in connection with numhers201 
Speculations of philosophers and others 202 
Of different opinions formerly prevailing 203 
Of the opinions of the Realists 204 

Of the opinions of the Nominalists 205 

Of the opinions of the Concept ualists 206 
Of histories of philosophical opinions 207 



Chap, xviii. — Of Dreaming. 

Sect. 
A knowledge of our dreams interesting 205 
Of the prevalence of dreaming 209 

Dreams often caused by our sensations 21(1 
Dreams influenced by health, #o. 211 

Connection of dream* 4* waking thoughts 21 1 
Dreams have the appearance of reality 213 
Influence of volition suspended in dreams 214 
Remarks on apparent reality of dreams 215 
Of our estimate of time in dreaming 216 

Senses sink to *leep in succession 217 

Remaiks on Somnambulists 218 

Of the utility of dreams 2(9 

Chap, xix — Demonstrative 
Reasoning. 

Of truth and different kinds of it 220 

Ways in which truth is discovered 221 

Of truth or knowledge from intuition 222 
Definition and kind- of proposition* 223 

Definition*,^- in demonstrative reasoning 2*4 
Subjects of demons rative reasoning 225 

Opposite* of such reasoning absurd '226 

Admits not of different degree* of belief 227 
Of the nature of demonstrative certainty 228 
U-e of diagrams in demonstrations 229 

Influence on the mental character 230 

Chap. xx. — Moral Reasoning. 

Subjects Sc importance of moral reasoning 231 
Of i he na'ure of moral certainty 232 

Of teasoning from analogy 233 

Caution in reasoning from analogy 234 

Of reasoning by induction 235 

Caution nece-sary in induc'ive processes 236 
Of the evidence of testimony 237 

Grounds of belief in tes iiuony 233 

Confidence in testimony founded in an 

original tendency of out constitution 239 
Operation of association in reasoning 240 
Grounds of the selection of propositions 241 
Limitation of power over aiguments 242 

Ol requisites in a skilful reasoner 2<J3 

Of moral reasoning as suited to our situ- 
ation as accountable being* 214 

Chap, xxi.— Dialecticks or Rules 
of Debate. 



Of the need of directions in argument** 

tive debate 
Of debating merely for the pleasure of it 
Of being governed by desire of truth 
Consider the importance of the subject 
Competency to enter info the di»cus»ion 
Care in stating the question 
Of simplicity of language in arguments 
All trifling propositions to be avoided 



t45 

248 
247 
24fl 
249 
250 
251 
«*' 



CONTESTS. 



Sect. 
Judgments to be formed on evidence, not 

on effects 2o3 

Different source* of evidence on question* 254 
Sources ol false judgments or sophisms 255 
Of adherence to our opinions 256 

Influence of. debating on the mind 2 >7 

Influence of the study of the Law 2:»8 

Reasoners not able to express themselves 259 
People may reason wrong but judge right 2^0 
Process in voting on Legislative subjects 261 
Notices of treatises on reasoning 262 

Chap, xxii.— Of Memory. 

Explanation of the faculty of memory 263 
Of differences in the strength of memory 264 
Power of memory in operating with 

numbers 265 

Exploded opinions in regard to memory 266 
Of the effects of disease on the memory 267 
Suggestions on the ultimate restoration 

of though 263 

Memoi\ of i he uneduna'ed 269 

Memory of men of philwsopbick minds 270 
Of the memory of the aged 271 

Mem >rv of persons of a rich imagination 272 
Compatibility of memory and judgment 2*3 
Intentional mem -ry or recollection 274 

Instance illustrative of the proceeding 275 
M irks of a good memory 276 

Of the advantages of this faculty 277 

Mean* of improving the memory 273 

Of committing to writing a> a means of 

improving the memory 279 

Of Miiemouicks or systems of artificial 

memory 280 



Chap, xxiii. Emotions 

Beauty. 



of 



Explanation of these emotions 231 

Of what is meant by beautiful objects 282 
Extensive application of the term beauty 283 
All objects not equally fitted to excite 

emo. ions of beauty 281 

A susceptibility ol emotions of beauty an 

ultimate principle of our constitution 28? 
Remark* on the beauty of forms 28'i 

Of the original beauty of colours 237 

Of amotions of beauty from sounds 28K 

Of motion as an element .of beauty 289 

Of the beauty of certain natural sigus 290 
Of the beauty or moral actions 291 

Of a distinct sense or faculty of beauty 292 
Objects rn-ty become beautiful by asso- 
ciation merely 293 
Farther illustrations of associated feeling294 
Instances of national associations 295 
Of utility as an element of beauty 296 
Of proportion &s a cauee or element of 

beauty 297 

Original susceptibilities of this emotion 298 
Generalizations of emotions of beauty 299 
Maaaer of foroiiag generalisations, £c. 300 



Sect. 

Summary of view* in regard to beauty 30l 
Emotions of beauty compared with others 302 
Of picturesque beauty 303 

Chap. xxiv. — Emotions of Sub- 
limity. 

Connection between beauty $• sublimity 304 
Of sublimity a parte rei 305 

Occasion* ot emotions of sublimity 306 

Sublimity in actions or moral sublime 307 
No objects sublime of themselves 308 

Sublime objects have elements of beauty 309 
Of emoti. ih of grandeur 31(1 

Original or mtrinsick sublimity of objects 31 1 
Of association and emotions of sublimity 312 

Chap. xxv. — Of Imagination. 

Definition of the power of imagination 313 
The creations of imagination not entire- 
ly voluntary 314 
Of imaginations not attended with desire 315 
Of imagination* attended with desire 316 
Funh r illustrations of the same subject 317 
Remarks from the writings of Dr Reid 318 
Ground* of the preference of one concep 

lion to another 319 

Mental process in the formation ol Mil- 
ton's imaginary paradise 320 
Limitation* of imagination by the senses 321 
Explana -ion of (he case ol Blaoklock 322 
Works of imagination give different degrees 

of pleasure 323 

Utility of the creations of poetry, §":, 324 
Of misconceptions of the im-iginaliort 325 
Explanations of the e misrepresentations 328 
Feelings of sympathy aided by imagin- 
ation 327 
Remark* on taste in the fine arts 328 
(Jha-racteristicks, Sfc. of a good taste 329 

Chap. xxvi. — Of Wit and Hu- 
mour. 

Emotions of the ludicrous 330 

Occasions of emotions of the ludicrous. 33t 

Of Hobbes' account of the ludicrous 332 

What is to be understood by wit 333 

Of wit as it consist* in burlesque 334 
Of wit when employed in aggrandising 

objects 335 
Of the character fy occasions of humour 336 

Of the advantages of wit and humour 3*7 

Chap, xxvij. — Of Instincts. 

j Of the meaning of the terra instinct 338 

j Of instinctive feelings in the human 

species 339 

{Of the desire of society, £{C. as instincts 340 
Of difference between instinct and reason 341 



CONTESTS. 



Sect. 
Of intellectual power in animals 342 

Actions from instinct not moral actions 343 

Chap, xxviii.— The Will, Con- 
science &c. 

Of volition and its objects 344 

Nature and kinds ot motives 345 

Of moral liberty in man 346 

Of the liberty of the Supreme Being 347 
Evidence from observation of influence 

over our volitions 348 

Encouragement- to making moral efforts 349 
Motives are modifications of our feelings 350 
Of moral motives 351 

Virtue and vice in agents not in action* 352 
True import of the terms, virtue and vice, 
merit and demerit 353 

Of moral obligation and conscience 354 

Want ot uniformity in moral judgments 355 
Conscience perverted by passion 356 

Complexity in actions a source of con- 
fusion in our moral judgments 357 
Influence of early associations on moral 

judgments 358 

Of enlightening the conscience 359 

0/ guilt when a person acts conscien- 
tiously 360 

Chap. xxix. — The Passions. 

Various significations of the term, passion 361 



Of the passion of love 


362 


Of the passion of hatred 


363 


Of sympathy 


364 


Of nnger 


365 


Of gratitude 


366 


Of pride 


367 


Of fear 


368 


Of hope 


369 


Of jealousy 


370 


External signs of the passions 


371 



Ch~p. xxx. — Mental Alienation. 

Misfortune of a disordered state of mind 372 
Degree of mental power in idiocy 373 

Of occasions of idiocy 37 I 

Illustration* of the cause of idiocy 375 

Partial derangement by means ol the im- 
agination 376 
Of lightheadedness 377 
Illustration of this mental disorder 37tt 
Mental derangement of hypochondriasis 379 
Of intermissions of hypochondria is, 3ft0 
Of the remedial of hypochondriasis 381 
The insanity of the pas*ions 334 
StngUlar instance of this form of insanity 383 
Sometimes* induced by early excessive i 
indulgence 384 
Of insanity with delirium 385 j 
Of perception in delirians insanity 386] 
Of association, in delirious insanity 387 
IflDMrntion oi r* action 388 



Sft. 

Effects of delirium on power of belief 38$ 
Powers of reasoning in the insane 399 

Partial in-anity in character <»f Don Quixote. 
Quickness of thought in insane persons 392 
Readiness of reasoning in the insane 393 
Effect of insanity on the memory 394 

Momentary impulses inclining to insanity 395 
Causes of the insanity of delirium 396 

Moral accountability in mental alienation 397 
Imputation of insanity to individuals 398 
Of the treatment of the insane 39$ 

Chap. xxxi. — Origin of Prej- 
udices. 

Of the meaning of prejudices 408 

Of constitutional prejudices 401 

Ot prejudices in favour of our youth 402 

Of prejudices of home and country 403 

Professional prejudices 404 

Prejudices of sects and parlies 405 

Prejudices of authority 406 

Prejudices o( careless reading 407 

Prejudices of presumption 408 

Prejudices of enthusiasm 409 

Prejudices of superstition 410 

Prejudices of superstition contagious 411 

Superstition in times ol distress. SfC. 412 

Prejudices of personal friendships 413 

Prejudices of custom or fashion 414 

Correctives of fashionable prejudices 415 

Prejudices of menial indolence 416 

Methods of subduing prejudices 417 

Chap, xxxii. — Evidence of 
Testimony. 

Prejudices in connection with testimony 418 
Ol the competency of the witness 419 

Veracity in connection wiih testimony 420 
Influence ol friendship on testimony 421 

Influence of personal interest on t«stimony422 
Does the testimony come from a partisan 423 
Memory iu connection with testimony 424 
On the testimony of the d\ing 425 

Of possibility ofaconfutation #• testimony426 
On the credibility of historical accounts 427 

Chap, xxxiii. — Education. 

Meaning $• earlie«t sources of education 428 
Introduction of imaginary and false ideas 429 
Guarding against prejudices in general 430 
Uniform developement of mental powers 431 
Of diversities in genius and temper 432 

Of moral and religious education 433 

Of education for particular arts. 8fC. 435 
Formation of intellectual hahiw 436 

Of a thorough examination of subjects 437 
Of a command of the attention 438 

Of physical education 438 

Of social intercour-e, #c, 439 

Education suitable to a citizen. 8ft. 440 

Of mathematics and other sciences 443 



CHAPTER FIRST. 



UTILITY OP XJSTEIiX.'SCTUAIi PHILOSOPHY 



$. 1. Of the prejudice existing against this science. 

A prejudice prevails against the science of Intellectual 
Philosophy. It is generally entered upon in our acade- 
mies and colleges with reluctance, and relinquished with- 
out regret. This aversion is not limited to the idle, but 
includes those, who know the value of time and the impor- 
tance of mental improvement. 

The objections against the Philosophy of the Mind, 
which have in a great measure given rise to this prejudice, 
may be principally summed up in two particulars. 

§.2. Of the metaphy sicks of the schools. 

Of these, one is the frivolous character of the meta- 
physical writings of the schools. 

The origin of those institutions, to which the name of 
schools is given, was this.* By order of a general Council 
of the Roman Catholick Church, held at Rome in the year 
1170, certain persons were appointed to give instructions 
either in the cathedrals and monasteries, or in some suita- 
ble buildings erected near them. The places of instruc- 
tion were called by the Latin name scholae ; the teachers 
were termed scholastici. These minor institutions, seme 
bf which had an existence previous to the enactment of 
2 



10 UTILITY OF 

the canons of the Council, which has been mentioned, at 
length grew up into the more imposing shape of semina- 
ries, answering to the publick literary institutions of mod- 
ern times. But while there was an alteration in the insti- 
tutions themselves, and universities and colleges in the end- 
arose from these small beginnings, the same appellations 
continued. 

By the schools, then, are to be understood the European 
literary and theological institutions, as they were constitu- 
ted and regulated from about the middle of the twelfth 
century to the period of the Protestant reformation. By 
the scholastics: philosophy, using the terms in a general 
sense, \ve mean those topicks, which were most examined 
and insisted on during that period. 

The learning- of the schools may in general be refer- 
red to three great divisions, viz. 

Ontology or the science of Being in general ; — ■• 

Natural theology, which seems to have been the appli- 
cation of the principles of ontology to the particular exis- 
tences, called God and angels ; and pneumatology or doc- 
trines having relation to the human mind. 

The following are some of the inquiries, which were 
warmly agitated during the period now under examination. 

Whether the Deity can exist in imaginary space no less 
than in the space, which is real ? Whether the Deity 
loves a possible unexisting angel better, than an insect in 
actual existence ? 

Whether the essence of mind be distinct from its exis- 
tence f And whether its essence might, therefore, subsist, 
when it had no actual existence ? 

Whether angels can visually discern objects in the 
dark ? Or whether they can pass from one point of space 
to another without passing through the intermediate 
points ? 

Such inquiries, it will readily be admitted, were worse 
than fruitless. But Intellectual Philosophy, as it exists at 
the present day, evidently ought not to be estimated by 
what it was in the scholustick ages. If, therefore, the pre- 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. II 

judice, which has been mentioned as prevailing against 
this science, be in any measure founded on the frivolous 
discussions of the schools, it is so far unjust ; since it is 
now prosecuted on different principles and with different 
results. 

§. 3. Supposed practical inutility of this science. 

A second ground of the prejudice, existing against this 
science, is the prevalence of a false opinion of its practical 
inutility. In studying Intellectual Philosophy, we are sup- 
posed in the erroneous opinion, which has been mentioned, 
to learn in a scientifick form only what we have previously 
learnt from nature ; we acquire nothing new, and the time, 
therefore, which is occupied in this pursuit, is mispent. 

All persons, however ignorant, know what it is, to think, 
to imagine, to feel, to perceive, to exercise belief. All per- 
sons know the fact in Intellectual Philosophy, that memo- 
ry depends on attention ; and when asked, why they have 
forgotten things, which occurred yesterday in their pres- 
ence, think it a sufficient answer to say, that they did not at- 
tend to them. Every body is practically acquainted with 
the principles of association, even the groom ; who, with 
all his ignorance of philosophical books, has the sagacity 
to feed his horses to the sound of the drum and bugle, as a 
training preparatory to their being employed in military 
service. 

From some facts of this kind, which may safely be ad- 
mitted to exist, the opinion has arisen of the practical in- 
utility of studying Intellectual Philosophy as a science. 

§. 4. Its supposed practical inutility answered. 

If, however, these facts be admited to be a valid ob- 
jection in application to this study, the same objection 
evidently exists to -the study of other sciences, for instance, 
Natural Philosophy. It is remarked of savages, that they 
gain an eminence before they throw their missile weapons, 
in order by the aid of such a position to increase the mo- 
mentum of what is thrown. They do this without anysci- 



12 UTILITY OF 

entiflck knowledge of the accelerating force of gravity. 
The sailor, who has perhaps never seen a mathematical dia- 
gram, practically understands, as is evident from the mode 
in which he handles the ropes of the vessel, the composi- 
tion and resolution of forces. In a multitude of instances, 
we act on principles, which are explained and demonstrated 
in some of the branches of Natural Philosophy, We act 
on them, while we are altogether ignorant of the science. 
But no one, it is presumed, will consider this a good ex- 
cuse for making no philosophical and systematick inqui- 
ries into that department of knowledge. 

But without contenting ourselves with this answer to 
the objection, that the study, upon which we are entering, 
is of no practical profit, some further remarks will be made, 
more directly and positively showing its beneficial results. 

§. 5. Intellectual philosophy teaches us how to direct 
our inquiries. 

It is one of the good results of a knowledge of Intel- 
lectual Philosophy, that we are taught by it to limit our 
inquiries to those subjects, to the investigation of which our 
capacities are equal and are adapted. The Supreme Being 
is an all pervading mind, a principle of life, that has an ex- 
istence in all places and in all space, and whose intelli- 
gence is like his omnipresence, acquainted with all things. 
But man, his creature, is made with an inferiour capacity ; 
he knows only in part, and it is but reasonable to suppose, 
that there are many things, which he will never He able to 
Jcnow. But, although it be justly admitted, that man is 
subordinate to the supreme Being and is infinitely inferiour 
to Fiim, his Maker has kindly given him aspirations after 
knowledge, with the power of satisfying in some measure 
and under certain limitations these natural breathings forth 
of the soul. If, therefore, man be a being, formed to 
know, and there be, moreover, certain restrictions, placed 
upon the capacity of knowledge, it is highly important to 
ascertain the limitations, whatever they may be, which are 
imposed. Nor is this always an easy thing to be determin.- 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 13 

ed. There is oftentimes a difficulty in ascertaining pre- 
cisely the boundary, which runs between the possibility and 
the impossibility of knowledge, but whenever it is ascer- 
tained, there is an indirect increase of mental ability by 
means of the withdrawment of the mind from unprofitable 
pursuits, in which there is an expence of effort without any 
remuneration. 

When, for example, a piece of wood, or any other of 
those material bodies, by which we are surrounded, is pre- 
sented to any one for his examination, there are some things 
in this material substance, which may be known, and others, 
which cannot. Its colour, its hardness or softness, its ex- 
tension are points, upon which he can inform himself, can 
reason, can arrive at knowledge. He opens his eye ; an im- 
pression is made on the organ of vision, and he has the idea 
of colour. By means of the application of his hand to the 
wood, he learns the penetrability or impenetrability, the soft- 
ness or hardness of the mass, which he holds. By moving his 
hand from one point to another in the mass, he is informed 
of the continuity or extension of its parts. But when he 
pushes his inquisition beneath the surface of this body, when 
he attempts to become acquainted not only with its quali- 
ties, but with that supposed something, in which those 
qualities are often imagined to inhere, and, in a word, 
expends his efforts, in obedience to this unprofitable deter- 
mination, in learning what matter is, independently of its 
properties, he then stumbles on a boundary, which it is not 
given men to pass, and seeks for knowledge where they 
are not permitted to know. 

The necessity of understanding what things come with- 
in the reach of our powers and what do not, was a thought, 
which laid the foundation of Mr. Locke's Essay on the Hu- 
man Understanding. 

§. 6. Remarks of Mr. Locke on this point 

"Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay 
(he remarks in the Epistle to the reader) I should tell thee, 
that five or six friends meeting at my chamber and discours- 



14 Utility oy 

mg on a subject very remote from this, found themselves 
quickly at a stand by the difficulties that arose on every 
side. After we had awhile puzzled ourselves without com- 
ing any nearer a resolution of those doubts, which perplex- 
ed us, it came into my thoughts, that we took a wrong 
course, and that before we set ourselves upon inquiries of 
that nature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, 
and see what objects our understandings were or were not 
fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the company, who 
ail readily assented, and thereupon it was agreed, that this 
should be our first inquiry." 

Such were the sentiments on this subject of a man, who 
has probably contributed more largely than any other in- 
dividual to help us to the correct understanding of the 
mind ; and whose writings, such is their singular originali- 
ty and acuteness, can hardly be too strongly recommended 
for perusal. 

4- ?• Helps as in the correction of mental errours. 

A second advantage resulting from the study of the 
Philosophy of the Mind, is, that it teaches us in many cases 
to correct whatever deficiences or errours may exist in our 
mental constitution. 

In our present state of imperfection, while we are found 
to experience various kinds of bodily evils, we are not ex- 
empt from those of the mind ; and we know not, that it 
can any more excite surprise, that some people exhibit 
mental distortions, than it can, that we daily see not only 
the healthy and the well-formed, but the " maimed, the 
halt, and the blind." 

If then it be asked, how are these mental defects, which 
we observe, -to be remedied, the answer is obvious, that we 
should act in regard to the mind, as we do in promoting 
the restoration of the body ; wo should commit the busi- 
ness of ascertaining a remedy to those, who are in some 
good degree acquainted with the subject and with the na- 
ture of the disease. A physician, altogether ignorant of 
the anatomy and physiology of the human system, would 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY 15 

be poorly qualified to relieve a fellow being in sickness, or 
who had met with a fracture in his limbs. But if know- 
ledge be necessary, in order to heal the weakness of the 
body and restore it to its proper soundness and beauty, it 
is not less important in the restoration of analogous evils 
in the mental constitution. 

In looking round to see, whose minds, are disordered 
and whose are in a sound and healthy condition, we notice, 
for example, some persons to be troubled with a very 
weak memory. We have a very candid confession on this 
point in the writings of Montaigne. He informs us, that 
he did not trust to his memory. When he had any com- 
mands to execute he always punctually committed them to 
his memorandum book. "I am forced (says he) to call my 
servants by the names of their employments, or of the 
countries, where they were born, for I can hardly remember 
their proper names ; and if I should live long, I question, 
whether I should remember my own name." It appears, 
however, from his acqaintance with the principles of the 
ancient philosophers, that he had not much reason to com- 
plain, except of his own inattention to this extremely val- 
uable mental operation. He remembered principles ; he 
could keep in recollection the outlines of the sciences, but 
could not so well remember insulated facts, especially if 
they related to the occurrences of common life. This pe- 
culiarity in the operations of the memory is not unfrequent- 
ly found among men of letters, especially if they possess a 
vivid imagination. But it must be considered a mental de- 
fect ; one, which it is not only important to understand, 
but to try to remedy. 

Since then it must be admitted, that there are diseases 
and distortions of the mind no less than of the body, and 
that we cannot expect a restoration from those evils with- 
out an intimate acquaintance with the state and tendencies 
of our intellectual powers, such an acquaintance become* 
exceedingly desirable. 



16 UTILITY 05* 

$• 8* Is the gratification of a reasonable curiosity. 

There is a third recommendation of this study, which 
will apply to it in common with many others, viz. That it 
is the gratification of a very reasonable curiosity. The 
botanist examines the seed of a plant, and its mode of ger- 
mination, the root and the qualities by which it is fitted to 
act as an organ of nutrition and support, the structure of the 
stem, the position of the branches, the form of the leaves, 
&c. — And it is considered in him a commendable pursuit, 
and suitable to the inquisitive turn of an intellectual being. 
Although the declaration of scripture be readily admitted, 
that the flowers of the field are clothed in brighter raiment 
than the robes of Solomon, it can never be doubted, that 
they are a subject of inquiry far inferiour to the mind of 
man, for the same scriptures teach us, that it is for man, 
considered as an intellectual and immortal being, that all 
nature lives and blooms. If, therefore, he be worthily 
employed, who marks the progress of the acorn as it shoots 
up and spreads itself forth into the strength and fullness of 
the mountain oak ; how much more so is he, who observes 
the first thoughts of an infant and marks their subsequent 
history, till he sees them in the proud and overshadowing 
maturity of the demonstrations of Newton. 

§. 9. Is a help to those ivho have the charge of early 
education. 

This study, in the fourth place, furnishes many very 
valuable hints to those, who have the charge of early edu- 
cation. General experience evinces the truth of an inti- 
mation of Mr. Pope, that education gives a direction to the 
mental character in subsequent life much the same as the 
inclination of the tree follows the bent of the twig. Chil- 
dren and youth adopt almost implicitly the manners and 
opinions of those, under whom they happen in Providence 
to be placed or with whom they much associate, whether 
they be parents, instructers, or others. 

Let it, therefore, be remembered, that passions both 
good and evil may then rise up and gain strength, which it 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. it 

will afterwards be found difficult to subdue. Intellectual 
operations may at that period be guided and invigorated, 
which, if then neglected, can never be called forth to any 
effective purpose in after life. Habits and associations 
of various kinds may then be formed which will follow the 
subject of them down to the grave, being, as long as life 
lasts, beyond the power of all attempts at a removal of 
them. 

What We learn from every day's observation agrees with 
what we are taught in the saying cf Solomon ; " Train up 
a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he 
will not depart from it." 

It is, then, reasonably expected of parents and instruc- 
ted, that they attempt to eradicate in the minds of the 
young bad passions and foster and sustain those, which are 
good ; that they pursue suitable methods for the invigora- 
tion of the mental powers, and that they strive to strength- 
en those habits and associations, which shall render them 
good members of a family, useful citizens in the common- 
wealth ; and above all should those under their care be 
trained up in the understanding and practice of that reli- 
gion, which brings peace and hope. 

No one certainly can be considered properly qualified 
for this great undertaking, who has not formed a systemat- 
ick and philosophick acquaintance with the principles of 
the mind. 

$. 10. Instructs us not only as to our thoughts but 
language. 

It may not be out of place to remark here, that this sci- 
ence concerns not only the various forms of thought, but the 
nature of language also, which is the medium of commu- 
nication, by which our thoughts are made known to others. 
Here then is another and fifth benefit, which may properly be 
set up against those objections, which have been made to this 
interesting department of science, since it is in a great mea- 
sure by means of language, that dirTcrent and distant minds 
hold intercourse, the forms of society are preserved, and 



18 tTTIIilTY OT 

the great family of man are enabled to go forth in the path 
of social and civil melioration. 

As words are in themselves mere arbitrary signs, and 
have no natural or inherent fitness for the expression of the 
signification, which is attached to them, more than various 
other signs, which might have been employed, they afford 
a fruitful subject of remark to the intellectual philosopher, 
who states the object for which they are used, explains 
their necessary imperfection, and teaches us in their skil- 
ful and appropriate application. 

&. 11. Has a connection with moral philosophy, ${C. 

It is to be considered further, that this study has an in- 
timate connection with others, which are of great impor- 
tance ; and this connection may be regarded as increas- 
ing the urgency of attending to it. It will perhaps be a 
more satisfactory illustration of this remark than any thing 
we can say ourselves, if we make a quotation here from 
Mr. Stewart's review of the philosophical works of Locke 
and Leibnitz. 

" Although my design is to treat separately of meta- 
physicks, ethicks, and politicks, it will be impossible to 
keep these sciences wholly unmixed in the course of my 
reflections. They all run into each other by insensible 
gradations ; and they have all been happily united in the 
comprehensive speculations of some of the most distin- 
guished writers of the eighteenth century. The connec- 
tion between mctaphysicks and ethicks is more pecu- 
liar)' close ; the theory of morals having furnished, ever 
since the time of Cud worth, several of the most abstruse 
questions, which have been agitated concerning the gen- 
eral principles, both intellectual and active, of the human 
frame. " 

Especially, is the knowledge of the principles of Intel- 
lectual Philosophy connected with the various departments 
of criticism. We see not how a person can give any ra- 
tional account of the effects of a work of imagination with- 
out such knowledge, or point out the excellencies and do- 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 1'9 

fects of a painting, or sit in judgment upon any other work 
of art. For, whatever we perceive to be beautiful or sub- 
lime in such works, could never possess the qualities of 
beauty or sublimity independently of our mental frame, 
and we never apply those epithets to them, except it be 
with reference to certain principles within us. 

But we leave these and all other considerations, tend- 
ing to show the utility of this science, with a single reflecr 
tion more, trusting, that it will be enough to justify us in 
our pursuits. 

§. 12. Teaches us to revere the wisdom of our Creator, 

W« are taught by this science to revere the wisdom of 
our Creator. 

We are frequently referred in theological writings to the 
works of creation, as a proof of his greatness and wisdom; 
and the remark has been made, not without reason, that 
the "stars teach as well as shine." The discoveries of mod- 
ern astronomy not only assure us, that there is a God, but 
impart this additional assurance, that he is above all others, 
to whom the attributes of divinity may have been at any 
time ascribed. 

But it must be added, that of all things created, whetb- 
er in the heavens above or in the earth beneath, the hu- 
man mind is that principle, which evinces the most won- 
derful construction, which discloses the most astonishing 
movements. There is much to excite our admiration in 
the harmonious movements of the planetary orbs, in the 
rapidity of light, in the process of vegetation ; but still 
greater cause for it in the principle of thought, in the in- 
expressible quickness of its operations, in the harmony of 
its laws, and in the greatness of its researches. How strik- 
ing are the powers of that intellect, which, although it 
have a local habitation, is able to look out from the place 
of its immediate residence, to pursue its researches among 
those remote worlds, which journey in the vault of heaven, 
and to converse both with the ages past and to come. 

It ought not to be expected that we should be intimate- 



20 PRIMARY TRUTHS. 

]y acquainted with a principle possessing such striking pow- 
ers, without some reverential feelings towards him, who is 
the author of it. 

§. 13. Of the mental effort necessary in this study. 

This science demands great mental effort on the part 
of the student. This effort is of a peculiar kind. It con- 
sists essentially in a continued and unbroken fixedness of 
attention. Such an effort is painful to many, and perhaps 
this is one cause of the unfavourable reception, which this 
department of knowledge has often met with. But the ad- 
vantages attending it are so numerous, it is to be hoped, 
they will overcome any disinclination to mental exertion. 
The fruits of the earth are purchased by the sweat of the 
brow, and it has never been ordered^ that the reverse of 
this shall take place in the matters of knowledge, and that 
the fruits of science shall be reaped by the hands of idle- 
ness. No man has ever become learned without toil ; and 
let it be remembered, if there be many obstacles in the ac- 
quisition of any particular science, that he, who overcomes 
a multiplication of difficulties, deserves greater honour 
than he, who contends only with a few. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 



PRIMARY TRUTHS, 



§. 14. Introductory remarks on this subject. 

It is often highly important, in the investigations of 
a science, to state, at the commencement of such investi- 
gations, what things are to be considered as preliminary 
and taken for granted, and what are not. If this precau- 
tion had always been observed, which, where there is any 
room for mistake or misapprehension, seems so rcasona- 



PRIMARY TRUTHS. 21 

ble, how many useless disputes would have been avoided 5 
— the paths to knowledge would have been rendered more 
direct and easy, instead of being prolonged and perplexed. 
It is impossible to proceed with inquiries in the science of 
intellectual philosophy, as it will be found to be in al^ 
most every other, without a proper understanding of those 
fundamental principles, which are necessarily involved in 
what follows. 

Those preliminary principles, which are necessary to 
be admitted, and without which we are unable to proceed 
with any satisfaction and profit in our inquiries, will be 
called, for the sake of distinction and convenience, prima- 
ry truths. 

There would seem to be no impropriety in calling 
them truths, since they are forced upon us, as it were, by 
our very constitution ; all mankind admit them in practice, 
however they may affect to deny them with their hps ; and 
they are as plain and incontrovertible at their very first 
enunciation, as any discoveries in physicks or any demon- 
strations in geometry. We call them primary, because 
they are the ultimate propositions, into which all reasoning 
resolves itself, and are necessarily involved and implied 
in all the investigations, which we shall make on the pres-* 
ent subject. 

The first of this class of truths, which will come under 
consideration, is this ; 

§. 15. A belief in our personal existence. 

Des Cartes formed the singular resolution, not to be- 
lieve his own existence, until he could prove it. 

He reasoned thus ; Cogito, ergo sum, I think, therefore, 
I exist. This argument, which he considered conclusive 
and incontrovertible, evidently involves what is termed a 
petitio principii or begging of the question. 

It is easy to perceive, that the very thing to be proved 
is assumed. Cogito is equivalent to the proposition, / am 
a thinking being ; and ergo sum may be literally interpret- 
ed, tkerefore, I &m in being. His premises had already im- 



22 PRIMARY TRUTHS. 

plied, that he existed as a thinking being, and it is these 
very premises, which he employs in proof of his existence. 
The acuteness, which has generally been attributed to him, 
evidently failed him in this instance. The argument of 
Des Cartes was unsuccessful, and no one, who has attempt- 
ed to prove the same point, has succeeded any better. 

It is necessary to take different ground from that taken 
by this philosopher and his followers. We consider the 
belief of our existence a primary truth. A few remarks 
may tend to show the propriety of thus doing. 

There was a time when man did not exist. He had no 
form, no knowledge. Light, and motion, and matter were 
things, in which he had no concern. He was created from 
nothing with such powers and such laws to his powers, as 
his Creator saw fit to give. 

We are called upon to mark the history of this new 
created being. 

At one year of age, or, if it be preferred, before one 
half or quarter of that period is passed, we will suppose, 
that some object, external to himself, is, for the first time, 
presented to his senses; The consequence is, that there is 
an impression made on the senses, and a perception of the 
object, presented to them. But it is impossible for him, 
as I think every one will allow, to perceive the object 
without a simultaneous conviction of the existence of the 
percipient. Nothing can be heard, or seen, or touched 
without an attendant belief, that there is a being, who 
hears, and handles, and beholds. This is a conclusion, 
which is necessarily involved in our mental constitution 
and which, as it has such an origin, neither requires any 
.argument nor fears any refutation. 

Malebranche in his search after truth speaks much, if 
the expressions be admissible, in commendation of the 
i] .it of doubting. But then he bestows this commenda- 
tion with such limitations as will prevent those evils, which 
result from too freely giving up to a sceptical spirit. 

"To doubt (says he) with judgment and reason, is not. 
go small a thing as people imagine, for here it may be said, 



PRIx\URY TRUTHS, '£3 

that there's a great difference between doubting and doubt- 
ing. We doubt through passion and brutality, through 
blindness and malice, and, lastly, through fancy, and cnly 
because we would doubt. But we doubt also with prudence 
and caution, with wisdom and penetration of mind. Aca- 
demicks and atheists doubt upon the first grounds, true 
philosophers on the second. The first is a doubt of dark- 
ness, which does not conduct us into the light, but al- 
ways removes us from it." (B. I. ch. 20.) 

We may remark in view of these observations of-Male- 
branche, that such is the doubting of those over-scrupu- 
lous inquirers, who demand proof of their own existence. 
Such scepticism as that is truly a doubt of darknes, which 
does not conduct us into the light, but always removes us 
from it. 

A second of those truths, which we term primary, w 
this ; 

<§. 16. A belief of our personal identity. 

The proof of our personal identity is sometimes refer* 
ffed to what is termed consciousness. We are said to be 
conscious of our identity. When these expressions are 
used, it is meant by them, that we have a conviction of the 
understanding, or we know ourselves to have enjoyed a con- 
tinuance of being. If any thing more than this be intend- 
ed, it will be found to be an use of terms without meaning. 

We have employed the phrase, personal identity. 

The words, person and personal, convey a complex idea. 
They have indeed particular reference to that indestructi- 
ble principle, which we denominate the mind; but they' 
have reference to it, considered in its connection with the 
body. 

By mental identity we have reference to the continu- 
ance and oneness of the thinking principle merely. 

By bodily identity we mean the sameness of the bodily 
shape and general organization. We cannot attach any 
other meaning to the latter phrase in consequence of the 
constant changes in the material particles, which compose 
©ur systems. 



24 *MMAllY TRUTHS; 

In those apprehensions, however, which we attach to 
the phrase, personal identity, we have reference to both 
the one and the other, the mind and the body ; and com- 
bine together the two ideas, which are conveyed in both 
the phrases before mentioned, viz. mental identity and bodi- 
ly ident ty. 

A belief in personal identity, or conviction that there 
has been a continuance of our being, is to be regarded, and 
with abundant reason, as a primary truth. 

The mere fact, that it is implied in our reasonings from 
the past to the future, and universally in our daily actions, 
is of itself a sufficient ground for considering it as such, 
for reckoning it among the original and essential elements 
of the understanding. 

The farmer, who now beholds his well cultivated fields, 
knows, that he is identically the same person, who twenty 
years before, entered the forest with an axe on his shoulder, 
and felled the first tree. The soldier, who recounts by his 
fireside to his children and grand children the battles of 
his youth, never once doubts, that he was himself the wit- 
ness of those sanguinary scenes, which he delights to re- 
late. It is alike useless to attempt to deny or to prove to 
them what they know, what they believe, not on evidence, 
but from nature ; what they take for granted in their hopes, 
in their retrospections, in their conversation, in all their 
engagements. 

Another view of the subject may perhaps make the 
ground, which has been taken, more clear and impressive. 

No train of reasoning, (what may be termed an argu- 
ment.,) can be brought to bear against this sentiment, that 
a belief in our personal identity is to be regarded as a pri- 
mary truth, an original principle of our constitution. 

The truth of this remark will appear on examination. 

There evidently can be no argument, properly so called, 
unless there be a succession of distinct propositions. From 
jjuch a succession of propositions, no conclusion can be 
drawn by any one, unless he be willing to trust to the evi- 
dence of memory. But memory involves a notion of the 



PRIMARY TRUTHS. Zi) 

time past, and whoever admits, that he has the power of 
memory, in however small a degree, virtually admits, that 
he has existed identically the same at some former period, 
as at present. 

The considerations, w T hich we have in view and which 
are greatly worthy of attention in connection with the prin- 
ciple under examination, may with a little variation of terms 
be stated thus. 

Remembrance, without the admission of our personal 
identity, is clearly an impossibility. But there can be no 
process of reasoning without memory. This is evident, 
because arguments are made up of propositions, which are 
successive to each other not only in order, but in point of 
time. It follows, then, that there can be no argument 
whatever, or on any subject, without the admission of our 
identity, as a point, from which to start. What then will it 
avail to attempt to reason either for or against the views, 
which are here maintained, since in every argument which 
is employed, there is necessarily an admission of the very 
thing, Which is the subject of inquiry ? 

A third of those truths or fundamental propositions, 
which we term primary, may thus be stated 5 

§. 17, The external, material world has an existence. 

*The Pyrrhonick sect, so named from Pyrrho, its found- 
er, a native of Elea, who flourished in the fourth century 
before Christ, called in question the truth of every system of 
opinions, adopted by other sects. Hence they have been 
also called scepticks and the sceptical sect ; names, which, 
in consequence of holding every thing to be uncertain, they 
seem to have well merited. They denied among other 
things the existence of matter. Their reasonings in res- 
pect to the material world were such as the following. 

First; The organs of perception, said they, are differ- 
ent in different animals, and it is probable, that the same 
objects present different images or appearances to them. 
But one person evidently can have no reason for saying, 
that his perceptions are more agreeable to the real nature 



26 PRIMARY TRUTHS. 

of things than those of another person or of other animals. 

Secondly ; Different objects present a different aspect 
according to their position, their nearness, or distance, or 
the mode, in which they are exhibited to the senses ; and 
no good reason can be given, why one of these aspects 
should agree with the real object any better than the rest 
of them. 

For instance we see a high steeple behind a very large 
wall or a hill and it appears to be very near and of dimin- 
ished size, but we afterwards see it with a number of houses 
and spaces both open and enclosed between; and the 
steeple, when seen under this difference of circumstances 
appears differently, seeming to be of a larger size and at a 
greater distance. 

But who can tell, which is the true, the correct repre- 
sentation of the object ? 

The moon appears to be only a foot or two feet in 
diameter, when beheld by the naked eye, but the telescope 
gives a very different account of its dimensions. 

In this way, say those, who profess to be genuine scep- 
ticks, we are constantly imposed upon, our senses always 
giving us false representations. We, consequently, know 
nothing concerning the true nature of material objects. 
What is termed matter is entirely incomprehensible, and it 
is altogether an useless undertaking, to attempt to prove 
the existence of any external substances. 

It Was said of P) rrho, that he carried his principles so 
far as to be in danger of being run over by carriages or of 
tumbling from precipices. But as his doctrine always found 
enough disposed to ridicule it, these statements were prob- 
ably the fabrication of his enemies. 

Some have asserted, that the professions of the seep- 
ticks are a mere pretence ; that they do not believe or rath- 
er disbelieve what they profess to ; but concerning this it is 
not essential to inquire, since we have their own explicit 
account of their opinions, whether it be an account cor- 
responding with the truth or not. 

But this is enough to have said concerning the scepticki 
as a sect. 



PRIMARY TRUTHS. 57 

We should reckon ourselves to be but in a poor calling, 
if we were to stop, when so many important inquiries de- 
mand our attention, and argue at any length the point of 
the existence of a ^material world with any, who may be 
disposed to deny it 

Let them remember, we do not attempt to explain what 
the real nature of matter is ; but only assert, that it ex- 
ists ; no otherwise than when we acknowledge our igno- 
rance of the nature of the existence of God, while we be- 
lieve, there is such a being. 

If the advocates of the doubting philosophy are unable 
by the sense of sight to judge correctly of the size of a 
steeple, has not the Almighty furnished them with another 
sense, that of the touch, by which they can form a more 
correct estimation ? 

If the eye of the body by itself alone be unable to give 
us a correct idea of the sun and moon, cannot the eye of 
the mind come in to its assistance ? Can it not tell us not 
only the size of those bodies but mark out the path of their 
motion, and thus not only seeing those things, which actu- 
ally exist, but those, which are to be hereafter, predict 
their position and appearance before that position and 
those appearances happen ? 

This also is to be considered. 

These persons either deny or admit their own existence. 
If they deny it, then we have none to contend with. If 
they admit it, then it remains to be shown by them, how the 
declaration of Scripture, that all flesh is grass, does not 
hold true in respect to themselves, or that their bodies more 
truly exist now, than they will, when they shall have ming- 
led with the dust, or have passed into other material shapes. 

Furthermore, whatever may be the idea of scepticks 
on this point, the great mass of mankind believe in the ex- 
istence of the Deity ; a being of perfect truth as well as 
benevolence. But to create man so that he should be 
irresistibly led to believe in the existence of a material 
world, when it did not exist, to create him with high capa- 
cities of thought, of feeling, and of action ; and then to 



2S PRIMARY TRUTHS. 

surround him with a panorama of illusive and imaginary 
appearances, would seem to be beneath both truth and 
goodness. 

Admitting, therefore, the existence of the material 
world without further remarks on the subject, we come to 
a fourth primary truth, which will be found to enter very 
extensively into all our investigations concerning the mind. 

§. 18. Confidence is to be reposed in the memory. 

When we say, that confidence is to be reposed in the 
memory, it is not meant to be asserted, that we are liable 
to no mistakes from that source. It is merely meant, that 
when we are satisfied, that our memory fully and correctly 
retains any perceptions of whatever kind of a former pe- 
riod, we receive such remembrances with as much confi- 
dence and act upon them as readily, as if the original per- 
ceptions were now present to the mind. Without this 
confidence in the memory we could hardly sustain an ex- 
istence ; we certainly could not derive any thing in aid of 
that existence from the experience of the past. 

Our past life has been a series of sensations or of differ- 
ent states of the mind, following each other in rapid and 
almost unbroken succession. 

But if we are asked in what way we are able to con- 
nect the past states of the mind with the present, and to 
make our former sensations a part of the sum of our knowl- 
edge now ; all the answer, which can be given to these in- 
quiries, is, that, in the original designation of those princi- 
ples, which were selected for the composition of our intel- 
lectual being, we are so constituted as to place a perfect 
reliance on the reports of that mental operation, which we 
term the memory ; and this statement is equally satisfac- 
tory and the only satisfactory account, whether we consid- 
er the memory a simple or a complex exercise of the mind. 
There is one more of those principles, which are just- 
ly considered primary and original, to be mentioned. It 
is this. 



PRIMARY TRUTHS. 



29 



§. 19. Man is so constituted, as to be susceptible of a 
variety of emotions. 

This characteristic!* in our constitution will be the bet- 
ter understood by being briefly illustrated. 

We behold certain appearances in the external, mate- 
rial world ; for instance, a sloping hill, fields waving with 
verdure, with the accompaniments of brooks and forest. 
This combination of natural scenery is presented before the 
mind ; and this presentation of it to the intellectual princi- 
ple is immediately succeeded by an emotion of beauty. 

We are subsequently removed from this pleasing com- 
bination of natural scenery to the brow of some rugged 
precipice. Beneath us are giant oaks, which toss their 
hundred arms, and desert caves, from whose mysterious 
bosoms the hollow winds sigh responsive to the more aw- 
ful voice of the torrent. When such a combination of the 
works of nature is held up to the soul's inspection, it is im- 
mediately followed, as in the case already mentioned, by an 
emotion ; and we term it, by way of distinction from other 
states of the mind, an emotion of sublimity. 

Other emotions are excited, when different combina- 
tions of natural objects are beheld, which will vary also 
with differences in the situation and circumstances of the 
beholder. 

But this is a principle, which extends in its application 
not only to those inanimate works, by which we are sur- 
rounded, but to human actions also. 

Any actions of our fellow beings, when beheld by us, 
are immediately connected in the mind with certain emo- 
tions, which exist in consequence of the previous exis- 
tence of those actions. Those actions, which discover jus- 
tice, beneficence, and propriety, are in general followed 
by pleasure and approbation. Other actions of an oppo- 
site character are attended with pain and 'disapprobation. 

Hence it may be laid down as a principle of our men- 
tal constitution, that certain emotions follow the exhibi- 
tion of objects or actions to the mind, much the same as 
vision follows the opening of the eyelids, or tha$ sounds 



30 PRIMARY TRUTHS. 

will be produced, when the vibrations of the air reach the 
organ of hearing. 

No reason whatever can be given, why any combina- 
tion of objects or of actions, why any exhibition of purpose 
or of power, causes a new state of mind of that class term- 
ed emotions any more, than actions and objects, purposes 
and powers utterly unknown to us, except it be this, that 
a susceptibility of emotions is one of the constituent and 
original characteristicks of the intellectual principle. 

Willi ' se admitted principles in view, which seem to 
spring up before us from our very nature and to claim our 
undoubting assent, the philosophy of the mind at once as- 
sumes an interest, which it could not otherwise possess. It 
ceases, at least in a great measure, to be charged with 
that vagueness, and uncertainty, and spirit of triflings which 
have hitherto been brought against it. 

§. 20. Admission of 'preliminary truths agreeable to 
right feelings towards the Supreme Being. 

When we consider, how short-sighted we are, it was to 
be expected, that we should find ourselves in the onset, 
under the necessity of taking certain principles for granted, 
as the conditions and auxiliaries of our subsequent inqui- 
ries. 

If we are under the necessity of taking for granted 
these preliminary or primary truths, which have been men- 
tioned, in all our investigations, which, we have seen to be 
the case, we may well say, that we find them agreeable to 
fa t ; and we ought, therefore, to find the fact accordant 
with our feelings, and not to complain of it. 

Not to be satisfied with such views and such admis- 
sions, when we puzzle ourselves in vain to get rid of them, 
may justly be thought to indicate an unhappy perversity in 
the moral disposition, and is a sort of complaint against 
God himself. To undertake to explain every thing, inde- 
pendently of the creating power, and without a careful re- 
gard to those ultimate principles, which that creating pow- 
er has ordained, betrays at least an ignorance of our limit- 



PERCEPTION. 



31 



ed ability, and, if it should not impeach one's piety, is an 
indication of weakness. If to know what our Creator has 
done be the part of philosophy, to acknowledge and revere 
him in his doings seems to be the part of religion ; and he, 
who is not in some degree possessed of the latter, wants 
that state of mind, which would be an essential aid to him 
in the investigations of the former. Since it is true, where- 
ever we go, wherever we push our inquiries, whether in re- 
gard to mind or matter, we find, in the result of those inqui- 
ries, Him, who has given to us whatever capacity of knowl- 
edge we may possess, saying to men, as he does to the ex- 
panse of the ocean, " there shall thy proud waves be stayd" 



CHAPTER THIRD. 



PERCEPTION, 



$.21. On classifications of our intellectual powers. 

It is a matter of convenience and helps to the mors 
ready understanding and recollection of these subjects, to 
class together and to assign a name to certain intellectual- 
operations or to combinations of them of the same kind. 
To certain operations of the mind of one sort we give the 
name, perception ; while operations of another kind, dif- 
fering from perception and also from each other, are de- 
signated by the terms, memory, imagination, &c. 

But it is not necessary to our purpose to attempt any 
classification more general than this, what may be termed 
a partitioning of the states or affections of the mind, as, for 
instance, in the old division of the understanding and will. 

The classification of certain operations of the same 
sort under the names, perception, memory, imagination, 
&c. is only a subordinate division ; one which, if it be not 
clearly made, is at least suggested, by nature ; and is very 



32 FEttCEPTION. 

different from that of assigning a distinctive, general name 
to a number of operations, essentially differing from each 
other, with the intention of having them considered an en- 
tirely separate fraternity. Some remarks further may be 
made to justify us in not attempting those more general 
classifications, which have been formerly proposed. 

§. 22. Of the classification into understanding and will. 

The operations of the mind have formerly been divided 
and classed under the two general names of the under- 
standing and will. 

Under the will seems to have been included that abili- 
ty, in whatever way it might exhibit itself, which was sup- 
posed to be necessary in bringing the mental constitution to 
action ; it was the mind's operative and controlling princi- 
ple ; something which moved and governed it. Agreeably, 
then, to this division, we find, on the one hand, the will, 
and, on the other, as its opposite, was the understanding. 
To determine, however, what operations belonged to the 
one and what belonged to the other, was by no means a 
matter well settled, but of great contention ; and a zeal in 
this particular was exhibited similar to that, when rival 
powers strive for the annexation of a disputed province to 
their respective empires. But of what benefit was this 
general classification it is now difficult to say, and it has 
at last fallen into comparative discredit. 

§. 23. Of the classification into active and intellectual 
powers. 

Another general classification of the powers of the 
mind was this, into the intellectual and the active powers. 

Under the intellectual, were comprehended perception, 
memory, judgment, reasoning, abstraction, &c. ; under the 
active powers, volition, and a variety of emotions, such ag 
pleasure, pain, aversion. This classification, excepting the 
difference of names, was very similar to the one above men- 
tioned. But, very evidently, positive or active power must 
be implied in some of the operations termed intellectual, 



PERCEPTION. « Ot> 

as well as in those, to which the opposite designation is 
given. That state of the mind, which is termed abstrac- 
tion, or imagination, is as positively active as that, which 
chooses, or loves, or hates. 

Without, therefore, attempting a general classification 
of the mental powers, it will be sufficient to remark upon 
them separately, beginning with perception. 

And here it may be observed, that our principal object 
is to ascertain facts in regard to the mind ; the arrange- 
ment of those facts and any speculations, which are not 
founded directly upon them, are points of subordinate con- 
sideration. 

§. 24. Of the objects of perception. 

All things, with which we become acquainted by means 
of the senses, are objects of perception. External nature, 
in particular, in all its varieties is submitted to our inspec- 
tion; and whatever knowledge we are enabled to- possess 
of it we enjoy by means of that mental operation. In all 
our knowledge then from this source, two things are to be 
taken for granted, 

(1) The existence of a material world, 

(2) Certain affections, caused in the organs of sense by- 
external things. 

Nor do we anticipate, after what has already been 
said on the subject of a material world, taken in connection 
with our consciousness of a susceptibility in our organs of 
sense of impressions from external objects, that any except 
tion will be taken to these reasonable assumptions. 

Perception, then, or external sensation is a state or affection 
of the mind, which is immediately successive to certain affec-* 
tion? of the organs of sense, these affections in the sensorial 
part being caused by external objects* 

The qualities or properties of the material world, which 
is the great object of our perceptions, are considered by 
Mr. Locke and others under the two heads of Primary and 
Secondary. . 

5 



34 PERCEPTION. 

§. 25. Of the primary qualities of bodies. 

The primary qualities of bodies are extension, figure, 
divisibility, and solidity. The name of secondary qualities 
has been given to sound, colour, taste, smell, heat, and cold. 

Primary qualities are known by being essential to the 
existence of all bodies. All bodies have extension, all 
bodies have figure, all are capable of division, all are solid. 

By solidity in bodies is to be understood that quality, 
by which a body hinders the approach of others, between \ 
which it is interposed. In this sense water and all other 
fluids are solid. If particles of water could be prevented 
from separating, it would be impossible for any two bodies, 
between which they might be, to come in contact. Thia 
was shown in an experiment, which was once made at 
Florence. A quantity of water was enclosed in a gold 
ball, which on the most violent pressure could not be made 
to fill the internal cavity, until the water inside was forced 
through the pores. 

Divisibility is reckoned among the primary qualities of 
matter. The smallest particle is susceptible of division ; 
and to that small particle must belong not only divisibility 
but the qualities of solidity, figure, and extension. 

§. 26. Of the sense of smell. 

The medium, through which we receive the sensations 
of smell, is the organ, which is termed the olfactory nerve, 
situated principally in the nostrils, but partly in some con- 
tinuous cavities. When any odoriferous particles, sent from 
external objects, affect this organ, there is a certain state 
of mind produced, which varies with the nature of the 
odoriferous bodies. But we cannot infer from the sensa- 
tion itself merely, that there exists any necessary connec- 
tion between the smell and the external objects any more, 
than that there exists a connection between thee motions of 
joy and sorrow and the same objects. It might indeed be 
suggested to us by the change in our mental states, that 
there must be seme cause or antecedent to the change, but 



PERCEPTION. 3f> 

this suggestion would be far from implying the necessity 
of a corporeal cause. 

How then does it happen, that we are not merely sen- 
sible of the particular sensation, but refer it at once to 
some external object, to the rose, or the honeysuckle ? In 
answer it may be remarked, if we had always been destitute 
of the senses of sight and touch, this reference never could 
have been made, but having been furnished with them by 
the beneficent author of our being, we make this refer- 
ence by experience. When we have seen the rose, when 
we have been near to it and handled it, we have uniformly 
been conscious of that state of mind, which we term a sen- 
sation of smell. It is only when we have been in the field 
of honeysuckles or in its immediate neighbourhood, or 
when they have been gathered and presented to us, that 
we have been reminded of their fragrance. And thus, 
having learnt by experience, that the presence of the odori- 
ferous body, is always attended with the sensations of smell, 
we form the habit of attributing the sensations to that body 
as their cause ; and this mental reference is made with 
almost as much promptness, as if it were necessarily in- 
volved in the sensation or perception itself. 

§. 27. Of the sense of taste. 

A sapid body is applied to the organ of taste. The ap^ 
plication of such body immediately causes a change or af- 
fection of the sensorial organ ; and this is at once followed 
by a mental perception. Thus we have the perceptions, 
to which we give the names, sweet, bitter, sour, acrid, dec. 

The perceptions of the mind are referred by us to some- 
thing, external to itself, which we call bitter, sweet, &c. 
as their caune. This reference is made very rapidly, so that 
we at once say of one apple it is sweet, and of another, i% 
is sour ; but it will always be found to be subsequent, in 
point of time, to the perception. As in the case of smells, 
which have been already remarked upon, the reference is 
the result of our former experience. We say of one body, 
it is sweet, and of another, it is acrid, because we have ever 



36 PERCEPTION. 

observed, that the mental states, indicated by those terms, 
have always existed in connection with the presence of 
those bodies. 

Whenever, therefore, we say of any bodies, that they 
are sweet, bitter, acrid, or, apply any other epithets, ex- 
pressive of sapid qualities, we mean to be understood to 
say, that such bodies are fitted in the constitution of things 
to cause in the mind the perceptions of sweetness, bitterness 
and acridness, or other sensations, expressed by denomina- 
tions of taste. Or, in other words, that they are the estab- 
lished antecedents of such sensations, as there is, further 
than this, no necessary connection between them. 

§. 28. Of the sense of hearing and of sounds. 

Sounds, which we perceive by means of the sense of 
hearing, are caused by undulations of elastick air, set in 
motion by the sonorous body and striking on the tympa- 
num of the ear. 

Sounds differ, first, in the tone ; secondly, in the 
strength of the tone. It is remarked by Dr, Reid, that 
five hundred variations of tone may be perceived by the 
ear, also an equal number of variations in the strength of 
the tone ; making, by a combination of the tones and of the 
degrees of strength, twenty thousand simple sounds, dif- 
fering either in tone or strength. 

In a perfect tone a great many undulations of elastick 
air are required, which must be of equal duration and ex-* 
tent, and follow each other with perfect regularity. Each 
undulation is made up of the advance and retreat of innu- 
merable particles of elastick air, whose motions are all uni- 
form in direction, force, and time. Accordingly, there will 
be varieties in the same tone, arising from the position and 
manner of striking the sonorous body, from the constitu- 
tion of the elastick medium, and from the state of the organ 
of hearing. • 

Different instruments, such as a flute, a violin, and a 
bass-viol may all sound the same tone, and yet be easily 
distinguishable. A considerable number of human voices 



PERCEPTION. 37 

I 

may sound the same note, and with equal strength, and 
yet there will be some difference. The same voice, while 
it maintains the proper distinctions of sound, may yet be 
varied many ways by sickness or health, youth or age, and 
other alterations in our bodily condition, to which we are 
incident. 

§, 29. Manner in which we learn the place of sounds. 

Previous to all experience, we should not know, wheth- 
er a sound came from the right or left, from above or be- 
low, from a smaller or greater distance. 

Dr. Reid mentions, that once, as he was lying abed, 
having been put into a fright, he heard his own heart beat. 
He took it to be some one knocking at the door, and arose, 
and opened the door oftener than once before he discovered, 
that the sound was in his own breast. Some traveller has 
related, that when he first heard the roaring of a lion in a 
desert wilderness, not seeing the animal, he did not know 
on what side to apprehend danger, as the sound seemed to 
him to proceed from the ground, and to enclose a circle, 
of which he and his companions stood in the centre. 

It is by custom or experience, that we learn to distin- 
guish the place of things, and, in some measure also, their 
nature, by means of their sound. It is thus that we learn, 
that one noise is in a contiguous room, that another is 
above our heads, and another in the street. And what 
seems to be an evidence of this is, that when we are in a 
strange place, after all our experience, we very frequently 
fjnd ourselves mistaken in these respects. 

If a man born deaf were suddenly made to hear, he 
would probably consider his first perceptions of sound as 
originating wholly within himself. But in process of time 
we learn not only to refer the origin of sounds to a posi- 
tion above or below, to the right or left ; but to connect 
each particular sound with a particular external cause, re- 
ferring one to a bell as its appropriate external cause, ano- 
ther to a flute, another to a trumpet. 



38 



PERCEPTION. 



$.«80. Connection of hearing with language. 

One of the greatest benefits of the sense of hearing is, 
that, in consequence of it, we are enabled to hold inter- 
course with each other by means of language, without 
which the advancement of the human mind must have in- 
evitably been very limited. 

It is by language, that we express our feelings to the 
little company of our neighbours and our own family ; and 
without it this pleasant and cheering intercourse must be 
almost entirely suspended. Not limited in its beneficial 
results to families and neighbourhoods, it is the medium of 
the transmission of thought from age to age, from genera- 
tion to generation. So that in one age is concentrated the 
result of all the researches, the combination of the wisdom 
of all the preceding. 

" There is without all doubt," it has been observed, 
" a chain of the thoughts of human kind, from the origin of 
the world down to the moment at which we exist, — a chain 
not less universal than that of the generation of every beings 
that lives. Ages have exerted their influence on ages ; 
nations on nations ; truths on errours ; errours on truths.'' 

Whether language be an invention of man, or a power 
bestowed upon him by his Creator and coeval with the 
human race, the ear must in either case have been the pri- 
mary recipient ; — the faculty of speech so necessary and 
so beneficial could not have existed without the sense of 
hearing. 

§. 31. Of the sense of touch. 

The principal organ of touch is the hand. This parr, 
of our frame is composed of various articulations, that by 
the aid of the muscles are easily moveable, so that it can 
adapt itself readily to the various changes of form in the 
objects, to which it is applied. 

The senses, which have been already mentioned, are 
more simple and uniform in their results, than that of the 
touch. By the ear we have a perception of sounds or thai 



PERCEPTION. 39 

sensation, which we denominate hearing. By the palate 
we have a knowledge of tastes, and by the sense of smelling 
we become acquainted with the odours of bodies. The 
knowledge, which is directly acquired by all these senses, 
is limited to the qualities, which have been .mentioned. 
By the sense of touch, on the contrary, we become ac- 
quainted not with one merely, but with a variety of qual- 
ities, such as the following, heat and cold, hardness and 
softness, roughness and smoothness, figure, solidity, motion, 
and extension. 

Some might be inclined to say, that hardness and soft- 
ness are expressive only of greater or less resistance, and 
are, therefore, the same thing, differing only in degree ; 
but the consideration of these ideas separately does not 
properly come in here. In the remarks, which are here- 
after to be made on the origin of knowledge, it will come 
within the plan of these Elements to bestow on some of 
them a more particular inquiry. 

§. 32. Of the benefits of the sense of sight. 

Of those instruments of perception, with which a benev- 
olent Providence has furnished us, a high rank must be 
given to the sense of seeing. If we were restricted in the 
process of acquiring knowledge to the informations of the 
touch merely, how many embarrassments would attend our 
progress and how slow it would prove ! Having never 
possessed sight, it would be many years, before the most 
acute and active person could form an idea of a mountain 
or even of a large edifice. But by the additional help of 
the sense of seeing, he not only observes the figure of large 
buildings, but is* in a moment possessed of all the beauties 
of a wide and variegated landscape. 

It does not fall within our plan to give a minute des- 
cription of the eye, which belongs rather to the anatomist, 
but such a description, with a statement of the uses of the 
different parts of the organ, must be to a candid and re- 
flecting mind a most powerful argument in proof of the ex- 
istence and goodness of the Supreme Being. How won- 



40 Perception. 

derfui among other things is the adaptation of the rays of 
light to the eye ! If those minute particles, which come to 
us with such inconceivable rapidity from all things around 
us, were not coloured, we should be deprived of much of 
that high Satisfaction, which we now take, in beholding 
surrounding objects ; and if they were not of a texture so 
extremely small, they would cause much pain to the organ 
of vision. 

§. S3. Statement of the mode or process in visual per^ 

ception. 

In the process of vision, the rays of light, coming from 
various objects and in various directions, strike in the first 
place on the pellucid part of the ball of the eye. 

If they were to continue passing on precisely in the 
same direction, they would produce merely one mingled 
and indistinct expanse of colour. 

In the progress through the chrystalline humour, they 
are refracted or bent from their former direction and distri- 
buted to certain focal points, on the retina, which is a white, 
fibrous expansion of the optick nerve. 

The rays of light, coming from objects in the field of 
vision, whether it be more or less extensive, as soon as they 
have been distributed on their distinct portions of the re- 
tina, and have formed an image there, are immediately 
followed by the sensation or perception, which is termed 
sight. 

The image, which is pictured on the retina, is the last 
step, which we are able to designate in the material part of 
the process in visual perception ; the mental state follows, 
but it is not in our power to trace, even in the smallest de- 
gree, any physical connection between the optical image 
and the corresponding state of the mind. 

All that we can say in this case is, that we suppose them 
to hold to each other the relation of antecedent and conse- 
quent by an ultimate law of our constitution. 



PERCEPTION. 41 

Note. On certain terms used as synonymous* 

The words, affection, idea, thought, sensation, opera- 
tion, and perception are in common use indiscriminately 
applied to the mind, although some of them not exclusive- 
ly so ; and when thus applied, appear to be used as synony- 
mous, and as signifying merely a state or position of the 
thinking principle. It seems, therefore, to be useless to 
set up an arbitrary distinction between them, which the 
common speech, both in conversation and in writing, will 
be continually annulling ; and which distinction, in the pre- 
sent almost indiscriminate application of the words, might 
tend rather to perplex than aid us in our inquiries. Be- 
sides ; nice inquiries into distinctions in the meaning of 
words belong rather to treatises purely philological than 
the present elementary work, which, taking language as 
it is, without pretending to define and settle its application, 
professes merely to collect for the use of the student, in a 
concise and plain view, some prominent facts in respect to 
the mind. Provided the facts are conveyed in an intelli- 
gible manner, so that the student can fully understand 
them, our object will be answered. 

§. 34. Of the connection which, the brain has with 
perception. 

It was an odd opinion, which once widely prevailedj 
that our ideas are inscribed in marks or traces in the 
medullary substance of the brain. "So soon as the soul 
(says Malebranche in his Search after Truth) receives some 
new ideas, it imprints new traces in the brain, and so soon 
as the objects produce new traces, the soul receives new 
ideas." 

This leads us to observe, without taking up time in re- 
marking on this now exploded opinion, that the brain is a 
prominent organ in the material part of the process of sen- 
sation or of external perception. The sensorial substance, 
as it exists in the nerves, excepting the coat, in which it is 
enveloped, is the same as in the brain, being of the same 



42 PERCEPTION. 

soft and partially fibrous texture and in perfect continuity 
with it. When the brain is in an unsound state, or has 
been in any way injured, both the external impression and 
the consequent perception are very imperfect. Also if the 
nerve, which is a supposed continuation of the brain, be 
injured, or if its continuity be disturbed by the pressure of 
a tight ligature, the effect is the same ; both the external 
impression and the perception are either destroyed or are 
imperfect. 

The brain, therefore, and the nerves in continuity with 
it constitute the sensorial o v gan, which in the subordinate 
organs of taste, of smell, of sight, of touch, and of hear- 
ing, presents itself under different modifications to external 
objects. On this organ, the sensorial, as thus explained, an 
impression must be made, before there can be perception. 

An impression, for instance, is made on that part of the 
sensorial organ called the auditory nerve, and a state of 
mind immediately succeeds, which is termed the percep- 
tion of sound. 

An impression is made by the rays of light on that ex- 
pansion of the optick nerve, which forms what is termed 
the retina, and the intellectual principle is immediately 
brought into that new position, which is termed visual per- 
ception. 

The hand is impressed on a body of an uneven and 
rough surface, and immediately consequent on this impres- 
sion, is that state of mind, which is termed a sensation or 
perception of roughness. 

§, 35. Impressions on the senses and perceptions art 
antecedents and consequents. 

In all these cases, as we have already remarked in re- 
spect to sight in particular, the impression made on the or- 
gan of sense is the antecedent, the mental perception is 
the consequent, and we are utterly unable, further than the 
mere fact of precedence and sequence, to trace any con- 
nection between them. But while we can see in instances 
of this description no necessary, no physical connection 



PERCEPTION. 43 

between the perception of the mind and the impression on 
the senses, we clearly discover the agency of the Supreme 
Being, who has appointed and sustains this connection, 
which is in itself arbitrary and conventional. 

We do indeed speak of cause and effect as if we could 
perceive how one follows another, but there is no other 
cause and effect in the physical w T orld, than that of antece- 
dent and consequent ; and the instances, which we thus 
name, are to be resolved into the independent and uncon- 
trolled power of God; — that Being, who, in the language of 
inspiration, "brings forth Mazzaroth in his season, and 
guides Arcturus with his sons." 

This discovery of the presence of the Almighty, to bind 
together and to give efficacy to things, which in themselves 
have no necessary connection, ought to be attended with 
a religious impression. It ought, on the one hand, to re- 
mind us of our own limited powers, and, on the other, 
of the unsearchable knowledge, and power, and benefi- 
cence of our Creator. It was his hand, which (to use an 
illustration of Akenside) attuned the mind to the impres- 
sions of external things, so that it returns to them a cor- 
responding note, like the image of Memnon, which was 
said in the fables of antiquity, whenever the morning sun- 
beams touched it, to pour forth its musick along the banks 
of the Nile. 

§. 36. Of the estimation of distances by sight. 

By the distance of objects, when we use the term in re- 
ference to ourselves, we mean the space, which is interpos- 
ed between those objects and our own position. Blind 
men have a notion of distance and can measure it by touch 
or by walking forward, until they meet the distant object. 

The perception of distance by the sight is an acquired 
and not an original perception. 

All objects in the first instance appear to touch the 
eye. 

Our experience has corrected so many of the representa- 
tions of the senses before the period, which we are yet 



44 PERCEPTION. 

able to retrace by the memory, that we cannot prove this 
by a reference to our own childhood and infancy. It ap* 
pears, however, from the statement of the cases of persons 
born blind on the sudden restoration of their sight. 

" When he first saw, (says Cheselden, the anatomist, 
when giving an account of a young man, whom he had re- 
stored to sight by couching for the cataract,) he was so 
far from making any judgment about distances, that he 
thought all objects touched his eyes, as he expressed it, as 
what he felt, did his skin ; and thought no objects so 
agreeable as those, which were smooth and regular, al- 
though he could form no judgment of their shape, or guess 
what it was in any object, that was pleasing to him." 

This anatomist has further informed us, that he has 
brought to sight several others, who had no remembrance of 
ever having seen ; and that they all gave the same account 
of their learning to see, as they called it, as the young man 
already mentioned, although not in so many particulars ; 
and that they all had this in Common, that having never 
had occasion to move their eyes, they knew not how to do 
it, and, at first, could not at all direct them to a particular 
object ; but in time they acquired that faculty, though by 
slow degrees. 

Blind persons, when at first restored to sight, are una- 
ble to estimate the distance of objects by that sense, but 
soon observing, that certain changes in the visible appear- 
ance of bodies always accompany a change of distance, 
they fall upon a method of estimating distances by the via- 
ble appearance. And it would no doubt be found, if it 
could be particularly examined into, that all mankind come 
to possess the power of estimating the distances of objects 
by sight in the same way. When a body is removed from us 
and placed at a Considerable distance, it becomes smaller 
in its visible appearance, its colours are less lively, and its 
outlines less distinct ; and we may expect to find a number 
of intermediate objects, more or fewer, as the distance may 
happen to be, showing themselves between the receding 
object and the spectator. And hence it is, that a certain 



PERCEPTION. 45 

visible appearance comes to be the sign of a certain dis- 
tance. 

Historical and landscape painters are enabled to turn 
these facts to great account in their delineations. By 
means of dimness of colour, indistinctness of outline, and 
the partial interposition of other objects, they are enabled 
apparently to throw back at a very considerable distance 
from the eye those objects, which they wish to appear re- 
mote. While other objects, that are intended to appear 
near, are painted vivid in colour, large in size, distinct in 
outline, and separated from the eye of the spectator by few 
or no intermediate objects. 

§. 37. Further illustrations of this subject, 

A vessel seen at sea by one, who is not accustomed to 
the ocean, appears much nearer, than it actually is. In his 
previous observations of objects at a distance he has com- 
monly noticed a number of intermediate objects, interpos- 
ed between the distant body and himself. The absence of 
those intermediate objects causes the deception, under 
which he labours in the present instance ; or is, at least, a 
prominent cause of his erroneous supposition, that the ves- 
sel is nearer than it truly is. 

For the same reason people misjudge of the width of a 
river, estimating its width at a half or three quarters of a 
mile at the most, when it is perhaps not less than double 
that distance. 

The same in estimating by the eye the width and 
length of plains and marshes. 

We mistake in the same way also in estimating the 
height of steeples and other similar elevated bodies. As 
the upper parts of the steeple out-top the surrounding build- 
ings and there are no contiguous objects with which to 
compare it, any measurement taken by the eye must be in- 
accurate, but is generally less than the truth. 

A man on the top of a steeple seems smaller to those 
below, than the same man would seem to the same persons, 
and at the same distance on level ground. As we have 



46 PERCEPTION. 

been in the habit of measuring distances on the ground by 
the eye, we can give a pretty near guess, whether a person 
be at an hundred feet distance, or more or less; and the 
mind immediately makes an allowance and corrects, so rap- 
idly that we do not remember it, the first visual representa- 
tion. But having never been in the habit of measuring 
perpendicular distances, the mind is at a loss, and fails to 
make that correction, which it would very readily, and, as 
it were ? intuitively make in the case of any objects on level 
ground. So that a man an hundred feet in the air appears 
to us smaller, than at the same removal from us on the 
earth. 

The fixed stars when viewed by the eye, all appear to 
be alike indefinitely and equally distant. Being scattered 
over the whole sky, they make every part of it seem like 
themselves at an indefinite and equal distance, and, there- 
fore, give the whole sky the appearance of the inside of a 
sphere. Moreover, the horizon seems to the eye to be fur- 
ther off than the zenith ; because between us and the for- 
mer-there lie many things, as fields, hills, waters, which we 
know to occupy a great space ; whereas between ils and 
the zenith there are no considerable things of known di- 
mensions. And, therefore, the heavens appear like the 
segment of a sphere, and less than a hemisphere, in the 
centre of which we seem to stand. And the wider ous 
prospect is, the greater will the sphere appear to be and 
the less the segment. 

In connection with what has been said we are led to 
make this further remark, that a change in the purity of the 
air will perplex in some measure those ideas of distance, 
which we receive from sight. Bishop Berkely remarks 
while travelling in Italy and Sicily, he noticed, that cities 
and palaces, seen at a great distance, appeared nearer to 
him by several miles than they actually were. The cause 
of this he very correctly supposed to be the purity of the 
Italian and Sicilian air, which gave to objects at a distance 
a degree of brightness and distinctness, which in the less 
clear and pure atmosphere of his native country, could be 



PERCEPTION. 47 

observed only in those towns and separate edifices, which 
were near. At home he had learnt to estimate the distance 
of objects by their appearance ; but his conclusions failed 
him, when they came to be applied to objects in countries, 
where the air was so much clearer. 

§• 38. Idea of extension not originally from sight. 

We have seen, that our idea of distance is not derived 
originally from the sight, but from the touch. Our 
idea of extension has the same origin ; for, as distance is 
the space interposed between one object and another, ex- 
tension is the distance between the parts of the same object 
where in the intermediate parts there is a continuity of the 
same substance. 

If a man, endued with sight, were to be fixed ail his 
days in one place immoveably, and were deprived of the 
means of gaining any experience by the touch, that man 
could never, from the information of his own senses, re- 
ceive any accurate knowledge of extension. But having 
learnt in time what appearance coloured and extended 
bodies make to the eye, he comes to learn from that ap- 
pearance the extension of bodies, much the same as he es- 
timates their distance from their appearance. 

And this statement leads us to the consideration of 
magnitude or limited extension, which is also estimated by 
the eye, although the pow r er of thus measuring it, like that 
of measuring distances and extension, is not an original 
perception, but is acquired by the aid of the touch. 

§. 39. Measurements of magnitude by the eye. 

Magnitude is divided into two kinds, tangible and visi- 
ble ; the tangible magnitude being always the same, but 
the visible, varying with the distance of the object. A man 
of six feet stature is always that height, whether he be a 
mile distant, or half a mile, or near at hand ; the change of 
place making no change in his real or tangible magnitude. 
But the visible magnitude of this man may be six feet or 
not oae foot, as we view him present with us, or at two 



48 PERCEPTION. 

miles distance; for his magnitude appears to our eye 
greater or less, according as he is more or less removed. 

Of two objects equally distant or supposed to be 
equally distant, that, which has the greatest visible mag- 
nitude, is supposed to have the greatest tangible magni- 
tude. 

To a man bewildered in a mist, objects seem larger 
than the life, because their faint appearance conveys the 
idea of great distance, and an object at a considerable dis- 
tance, which has the same visible magnitude with one near, 
the rnind immediately concludes to be larger. 

The sun and moon seem larger in the horizon than in 
the meridian, appearing then to be at the greatest distance, 
either because the horizon for a reason already given seems 
more remote than the zenith, or because the atmosphere, 
being more full of vapour towards the horizon, makes the 
heavenly bodies appear fainter, and . consequently more 
distant. 

§. 40. Of the knoivledge of the figure of bodies by the 

sight. 

A solid body presents to the eye nothing but a cer- 
tain disposition of colours and light. We may imagine 
ourselves to see the prominencies or cavities in such bodies, 
when in truth we see only the light or the shade, occasion- 
ed by them. This light and shade, however, we learn by 
experience to consider as the sign of a certain, solid figure. 

A proof of the truth of this statement is, that a painter 
by carefully imitating the distribution of light and shade, 
which he sees in objects, will make his work very naturally 
and exactly represent, not only the general outline of a 
body, but its prominencies, depressions, and other irregu- 
larities. And yet his delineation, which by the distribu- 
tion of light and shade gives such various representations, 
is on a smooth and plain surface. 

It was a problem submitted by Mr. Molyneux to Mr. 
Locke, whether a blind man, who has learnt the difference 
between a cube and a sphere by the touch, can, on being 
suddenly restored to sight, distinguish between them, and 



PERCEPTION. 49 

tell, which is the sphere and which is the cube, by the aid 
of what may be called his new sense merely ? And the 
answer of Mr. Locke is, that he cannot. The blind marj 
knows what impressions the cube and sphere make on the 
organ of touch and by that sense is able to distinguish be- 
tween them, but, as he is ignorant what impression they 
will make on the organ of sight, he is not able by the lat- 
ter sense alone to tell, which is the round body, and which 
is the cubick. 

It was remarked, that solid bodies present to the eye 
nothing but a certain disposition of light and colours. 

It seems to follow from this, that the first idea, which 
will be conveyed to the mind on seeing a globe, will l?e 
that of a circle, variously shadowed with different degrees 
of light. This imperfect idea is corrected in this way. 
Combining the suggestions of the sense of touch with those 
of sight, we learn by greater experience w T hat kind of ap- 
pearance solid, convex bodies will make to us. That ap- 
pearance becomes to the mind the sign of the presence of 
a globe ; so that we have an idea of a round body by a 
very rapid mental correction, whereas the idea first con- 
veyed to the mind is truly that of a plane, circular surface, 
on which there is a variety in the dispositions of light and 
shade. It is an evidence of the correctness of this state- 
ment, that in paintings plane surfaces, variously shaded, 
represent convex bodies, and with great truth and exact- 
ness. 

It appears then, that distance, extension, magnitude, 
and figure, are originally perceived, not by sight, but by 
touch. We do not judge of them by sight, until we have 
learnt by our experience, that certain visible appearances 
always accompany and signify certain distances, exten- 
sions, magnitudes, and figures. This knowledge we ac- 
quire at a very early period in life, so much so, that we lose 
in a great measure the memory both of its commencement 
and progress. 

And yet many people can recollect the time, when they 
considered the sky to be a transoarent and solid concave. 
7 



50 MEktfEPTIOB. 

resting on the tops of distant mountains. How different i^ 
this idea, which we receive from the sight, from what we 
find in our subsequent experience to be the fact ! 

§.41. The senses reciprocally assist each other. 

The errours and deficiences of one sense are made up 
and corrected by the friendly presence and suggestions of 
another. And when any of the senses entirely fail, the 
others are proportionably quickened and improved. 

A multitude of instances go to show to what extent 
this correction and this aid take place. 

We will suppose, as an illustration, that, at an early 
period of life, a person loses his sight. An effect on the 
sense of hearing and of touch is immediately perceived j 
they are greatly improved. 

The blind man cannot see his friend, but he knows, 
when he enters the room by the sound of his tread. He 
cannot see the large and heavy bodies, which happen in 
his way when he walks about, but he suspects their too 
great nearness to him in consequence of the increased resis- 
tance of the atmosphere.* And a blind person, owing to 
the increased accuracy of the remaining senses, would be 
better trusted to go through the various apartments of a 
house, in the darkness of midnight, than one, possessed of 



* It is a singular circumstance, that something similar to what is here 
stated of the ability of blindmen to discover the nearness or distance of objects* 
by changes in the resistance of the atmosphere, has been noticed by the natural- 
ist, Spallanzani, in respect to bats. He discovered, that bats when perfectly 
blinded and afterwards set at liberty, had the extraordinary faculty of guiding, 
themselves through the most complicated windings of subterraneous passages, 
without striking against the walls, and that they avoided with great skill cords, 
branches of trees, and other obstacles, placed by deoign in their way. 

This ability is probably owing loan extreme delicacy in the wing, which is- 
6f a very large size in proportion to that of the animal, and is covered with an 
exceedingly fine net- work of nerves. The bat, as it strikes the air with its wing, 
receives sensations of heat, cold, and resistance, and, in consequence, is enabled 
(,) avoid objects, which would otherwise obstruct its flight, apparently in the same 
way that blind persons perceive a door or a wall by a change in the temperature 
BV in the resistance of the air. 



PERCEPTION. 51 

the sense of seeing, but without any artificial light to as- 
sist him. It is stated on the authority of a Roman historian, 
that there was a blind man, who made it his employment 
to conduct merchants and other travellers through the 
sands and deserts of Arabia. This statement seems not to 
be improbable, when we recollect what is related in the 
transactions of the Manchester Society in England of John 
Metcalf, otherwise called Blind Jack. He became blind 
at an early period ; but, notwithstanding, followed the pro- 
fession of a waggoner and occasionally of a guide in intri- 
cate roads, during the night, or -when the tracks were cov- 
ered with snow. At length he became a projector and 
surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous districts ; 
an employment, for which one would naturally suppose a 
blind man to be but indifferently qualified. But he was 
found to answer all the expectations of his employers, and 
most of the roads over the peak in Derbyshire in England 
were altered by his directions. Says the person, who 
gives this account of Blind Jack, " I have several times 
met this man with the assistance only of a long staff trav- 
ersing the roads, ascending precipices, exploring vallies, 
and investigating their several extents, forms, and situa- 
tions, so as to answer his designs in the best manner." (Ed. 
Ency. Art. Blindness.) 

This improvement of the remaining senses, when one 
of them is lost, is probably owing to the increased attention, 
which people then bestow upon the various and nicely dis- 
tinguished suggestions, which they furnish. Nothing es- 
capes them, and those dim perceptions, which were form- 
erly almost unnoticed, now convey to them important infor- 
mation. 

§. 42; Remarks on certain writers on out visual per- 
ceptions. 

It is proper to premise, before speaking of writers on 
the subject of our visual perceptions, that whatever remarks 
we may at any time make of a critical and historical nature 



52 PERCEPTION. 

will in general be brief; our object being chiefly to let 
the student know, to whom he is indebted for new views 
in this science, and to offer what assistance we may be 
able to, in helping him to a selection of those books on 
the mind, which are most worthy of his attention. 

It does not appear, that there were just and well set- 
tied views on the subject of our visual perceptions before 
the time of Dr. Barrow, who flourished about the middle 
of the seventeenth century, well known for his theological, 
and especially for his mathematical writings. We do not, 
however, mention his name, because he was in any great 
degree a contributor to the philosophy of the mind, al- 
though he has some merit in this respect ; but from the 
circumstance that, in the conclusion of his Optical Lec- 
tures, he alludes to the subject of our visual perceptions in 
such a way as to let us know what perplexity rested upon 
it so late as at that period. 

There are some facts in relation to the perception of 
the distance of external objects, which he acknowledges 
are involved in the mysteries of nature, and will probably 
not be discovered, until the manner of vision shall be 
more perfectly known. He says, he, therefore, leaves the 
knot untied. 

At a later period, Mr. Molyneux and Mr. Locke evi- 
dently had views on this subject closely approximating to 
what is now considered the true explanation of these phe- 
nomena, as may be inferred in particular from some re- 
marks concerning them, which are made in the second 
Boojc of the Essay on the Understanding. 

But it is only justice to u learned and ingenious man 
to remark hero, that the statement of our visual percep- 
tions, as above given in the sections on that subject, 
tvgs first fully proposed and established by Dr. Berkeley, 
bishop ofCloyne. Notwithstanding the great deduction, 
which he has incurred, in consequence of his peculiar 
views in respect to the existence of a material world, his 
writings, it must be confessed, exhibit much acuteness 
of thought, and what is no small merit, are written in a 



NO INNATE KNOWLEDGE. 



53 



simple and perspicuous style, well adapted to philosophi- 
cal subjects. 

Dr. Beattie, in a note to the chapter, where he treats 
of imagination, gives a concise and plain view of the prin- 
ciples developed and proved by Berkeley in his New The- 
ery of Vision, with a variety of illustrations. In inquiries 
yet to be made, as in some of the statements in the preced- 
ing sections on perceptions by means of sight, we fhali not 
unfrequently be indebted to his writings. They do not 
discover the originality and acuteness of Locke or even of 
Berkeley, but are exceedingly more valuable than a variety 
of other productions of a more scholastick nature, which 
might be mentioned ; and may profitably be put into the 
hands of inquirers into the principles of mind and of morals, 



CHAPTER FOURTH 



NO INNATE KKOWLED^S. 



§. 43. Innate ideas before the time of Mr. Locke. 

The publication of Mr. Locke's Essay on the Human 
Understanding, has justly been considered as fixing an era 
in the science of Intellectual Philosophy. Before the pub- 
lication of this work, which was in the year 1690, the doc- 
trine of innate or connatural ideas was widely prevalent. 
By the phrase innate, or, to use an expression less ambig- 
uous, connatural ideas, is to be understood certain ideas 
and propositions, which were held to be wrought into their 
intellectual nature and to be born with all mankind. It 
was maintained, that they were limited to no one class, nei- 
ther to the rich nor the poor, neither to the learned nor the 
ignorant, to no clime and to no country, but all participa- 
ted in them alike. These propositions and ideas, being 
coetaneous with the existence of the soul and being there 



54 N6 INNATE KNOWLEDGE. 

established at the commencement of its existence by the- 
ordinance of the Deity, were regarded as the first princi- 
ples of knowledge, and as the rules, by which men were to 
be guided in all their reasonings about natural and moral 
subjects. From these innate and original propositions the 
following may be selected as specimens of the whole. 

§, 44. Enumeration of innate principles. 

(1) Of the natural kind, 

Viz., The whole is greater than a part ; Whatsoever is, 
is ; It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be 
at the same time and in the same sense, 

(2) Of the moral kind, 

Viz., Parents must be honoured ; Injury must not be 
done; Contracts should be fulfilled, &c. 

(3) Of the religious kind, 

Viz., There is a God ; God is to be worshipped ; God 
will approve virtue and punish vice. 

If these propositions are innate or connatural w r ith 
the mind, then the ideas, of which they are composed, 
must be innate ; so that, whatever the number of proposi- 
tions, there will be a yet greater number of innate ideas. 

The doctrine of the existence of such innate ideas and 
propositions was supported by Des Cartes and Malebranche, 
names of such celebrity as to give at least a temporary 
currency to almost any opinion. The principal argument 
in support of this doctrine seems to have been this ; 

§. 45. Argument on the subject of innate knowledge. 

All mankind universally exhibit an acquaintance with, 
and give their assent to ideas and propositions of this de- 
scription ; hence they are innate. 

This argument is considered inconclusive, because the 
statement, which is made in it, is maintained to be untrue. 
It is undoubtedly the fact, that a part of the human race 
remain ignorant through life of the greater number, if not 
all of the propositions in question. 

But admitting that all men are acquainted with them 



NO INNATE KNOWLEDGE. 55 

and assent to them, this by no means proves them innate, 
so long as we can account for this acquaintance and this 
assent in some other way. It is admitted by all, that the 
mind exists, and that it possesses the power or the ability 
to acquire knowledge. If, therefore, in the exercise of this 
ability, which all admit it to have, we can come to the 
knowledge of what are called innate or connatural ideas 
and propositions, it is quite unphilosophical to assign to 
them another origin, in support of which no positive proof 
can be brought. 

Further ; if the doctrine of innate knowledge be ad- 
mitted, ideas and propositions of this kind may be multi- 
plied to any extent ; every one will imagine himself at lib- 
erty to add to the number ; they will unnecessarily be 
brought forward on a variety of occasions, and a most per- 
plexing hindrance be thrown in the the way of free inquiry 
and of the progress of knowledge. 

§. 46. Mr. Lookers opinions on this subject. 

Mr. Locke in the first book of his Essay on the Human 
Understanding has examined this subject at very consider- 
able length. It has indeed been said of his argument, that 
it is both too long and not always sufficiently to the point, 
but it makes up in the variety and weight of its consider- 
ations what it wants in exactness of arrangement 5 and it 
will be found by no means easy to confute it. 

It is one among the merits of this writer, that he has 
successfully laboured to do away many of our ancient pre- 
judices, (what may be termed the rubbish of the science,) 
and shown us where to make a good and satisfactory begin- 
ning. In accordance with what there is so much evidence to 
consider the true doctrine, we are presented in his writings 
with the mind, not as a mere recipient, already in a good 
degree filled up with articles of knowledge, but as a prin- 
ciple or power of action ; and all we have to do, is, to mark 
its operations, as they necessarily exist in consequence of its 
being furnished with the aid of the senses and surrounded 
with material objects. It knows nothing at the first ; but it 



«56 NO INIUTE KNOWLEDGE. 

possesses the ability to explore the forms of matter in its va- 
rious shapes, to mark the aspects and the operations of intel- 
lect ; and in this way it becomes possessed of a great varie- 
ty of information. It is, therefore, a most wonderful princi- 
ple, and, as it raises us far above the brute creation, it would 
for its own nobleness be highly worthy of the student's at- 
tention, even if no practical benefit should result from the 
pursuit. 

§. 47. Opinions of Plato and Aristotle. 

It may properly enough be remarked here, that the dis- 
cussion on the subject of innate ideas and propositions is 
one of long standing. We refer in this remark to the 
statement, which a French writer, De Gerando, in his His- 
tory of Philosophy, has given of the conflicting opinions of 
Plato and Aristotle, taking the translation of the passage, 
as we find it in an American periodical publication of mer- 
rited reputation. " Ideas, (says Plato,) are not made up 
of deductions from experience. They have a different ori- 
gin. It would be impossible to explain the production 
of them, if they were not independent of experience, and, 
consequently, innate, that is, placed in the mind by God 
himself, to serve as the elements of knowledge. Before 
they were communicated to us, they dwelt in the Divine 
mind, as so many forms or models, according to which the 
Deity arranged the universe." 

The following is the reply of Aristotle. 

" If ideas are innate (he says) how happens it, that we 
are not always conscious of them ? And that it is so long 
before we obtain the knowledge, which they ought to im- 
part to us ? How can we have an idea of a thing, which 
we never perceived I To call our ideas models, on which 
existing objects were formed, is merely a poetical figure. 
Who is there, that acts with his eyes fixed on these sup- 
posed models ? We know, that objects may exist, may be 
made without reference to them." 

11 Pluto was, therefore, (he says,) clearly in an errour. 



NO INNATE KNOWLEDGE, 57 

His ideas are evidently a product of the understanding, 
formed by a generalization of the particular qualities of in- 
dividual objects." 

It is this very question, namely, whether we have any 
ideas, any thing, which can be called knowledge previous 
to sensation, which divided different writers so late as tha 
time of Des Cartes, who appears to have adopted senti- 
ments, similar to those of Plato. It was this question, 
therefore, which Mr. Locke thought it necessary to exam- 
ine at the commencement of his metaphysical writings, and 
with what ability is generally known. 

§. 48. Prevailing opinions at the present time. 

It would seem then from the remarks, which have been 
made, that in former times there has been a great diversity 
of opinion on the subject of the origin of our knowledge. 

This diversity of opinion does not exist in so great a 
degree at present. Few are found, who hold to the doc- 
trine of innate or connatural ideas and propositions, as that 
doctrine was formerly stated and maintained. The opin- 
ions of Mr. Locke on this subject, adopted with some slight 
modifications, are the opinions of nearly all mental philos- 
ophers, not only in America and England, but in France, 
and on the continent of Europe generally. 

In the statements, which are to be made respecting the 
origin and combinations of our ideas, we have, accordingly, 
followed in his footsteps with such deviations, as might be 
expected from more recent, and, in some cases, more accu- 
rate and satisfactory inquiries. 



59 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 



ORIGIN Or SIMPLE 2E2AS, 



$. 49. Simple ideas received by means of the senses 
and from our mental operations. 

There is one class of our thoughts, which we term sim- 
ple ideas, and with sufficiently good reason, since we know 
not, that they are in any degree compounded by being 
made up of other thoughts, or that they can be resolved in- 
to any thing more elementary. This class then naturally 
arrests our attention first. 

When we look at the history of our simple ideas, with 
the intention of discovering, if possible, their true origin, 
we find, that they may be traced to two sources. 

(1) Some of them originate in the senses, that is to say, 
are caused by means of external objects producing an af- 
fection of the senses. 

(2) Other simple ideas arise to us or exist from reflect- 
ing on our mental operations. 

In other words, the two predominant sources of our 
simple ideas are the world without and the world within ; 
the external creation, between which and our bodily sen- 
ses, Providence has instituted a common and reciprocal 
adaptation, and the internal, mental creation, which no 
sooner commences its various and appropriate exercises, 
than we are furnished with another series of simple ideas, 
which never could have been received from the senses 
alone. 

These two sources of our simple thoughts, however 
they may have been by some writers confounded with each 
other, are entirely distinct ; since the simple ideas, arising 
from the fact of the existence of certain mental operations, 
could not have been suggested by any thing, which takes 
place in the external world, independently of those opera- 



ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 50 

tions. And this circumstance of itself sufficiently justifies 
the distinction, which has been set up between them. 

There is, nevertheless, reason for saying, that those 
ideas, which are received from the senses, have the prior- 
ity in point of time ; a fact, which it may be necessary 
briefly to illustrate. 

As we know, that the human o*ind is not eternal, it is 
only to state the same thing in other words, when we say, 
that there must have been some particular period, when it 
commenced its existence or was created. If its acts or 
operations were not connatural and innate, of which, as ap- 
peared in the preceding chapter, there is by no means suf- 
ficient evidence, they must clearly have been subsequent 
in time to its creation. But while there is ground for say- 
kig, that our mental operations are subsequent to the cre- 
ation of the thinking principle, the facts, which constantly- 
present themselves to every one's attention, lead us to say 
further, that they are subsequent also to certain affections 
of the .senses. 

In other words, were it not for impressions on the sen- 
ses, which may be traced to objects external to the senses, 
our mental capabilities, whatever they may be, would 
always have remained in a state of fruitless inaction. 

IJence the process, which is implied in the perception 
of external things, or what is commojnly termed by Mr. 
Locke sensation, may justly he considered the occasion or 
introductory step to all our knowledge. 

But, although the presentation of external objects be 
the first occasion of the mind's becoming operative, it no 
sooner becomes such, than these operations furnish us with 
another set of ideas, as already remarked, which, by way 
of distinguishing them from those received through the 
direct mediation of the senses, may be termed ideas of re- 
flection. 

These two classes, then, simple ideas from the senses, 
and simple ideas from reflection, are the earliest, with 
which the mind is furnished, and are the elements or sim- 
plest materials of all our subsequent, intellectual attain- 
ments. 



60 ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS.. 

§. 50. Of verbal explanations of simple ideas. 

In the remaining remarks on the subject now under 
consideration, it is necessary to warn the reader, that we 
shall, for the most part, merely state something of the mode 
or rather of the circumstances, in which this class of our 
thoughts occur to the mind, without pretending to be more 
explicit. Simple ideas admit of no definition, of no ex- 
planation, further than such statement of the circumstan- 
ces, in which they are brought to view. 

If any one should charge us with want of clearness and 
profess not to understand what is meant by the terms, ex- 
tension, solidity, heat, cold, red, blue, sweet, unity, or other 
names of simple ideas, we know not that any thing can be 
done to clear up that mental obscurity, under which he 
labours, but merely to refer him to his own senses, to his 
personal experience, as the only instructer, from whom he 
will Le likely to receive any tolerable satisfaction. 

The subject of definitions, both in its connection with 
simple and with complex terms, will be further considered 
in the chapter on Language. 

§. 51. Division of our simple ideas* 

Mr. Locke, having reference to the mode, in which our 
simple ideas are received into the mind, has divided them 
into four classes ; 

(1) Those, which are received by one sense merely ; 

(2) Those, which are received from more than one 
sense ; 

(3) Those, which are received from reflection or the 
observation of what takes place in our minds; 

(4) Those, which are received by reflection, and come 
into the mind also at other times, in various ways, by the 
senses ; or which in some instances are received by sensa- 
tion and reflection combined, and not separately, as in the 
simple idea of power. 

And this seems to be the most natural division, whicfy 
can be made, and, therefore, very well fitted to help us keep 
in memory the history of our early notions. 



ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 61 

§. 52. Of simple ideas from one sense only. 

To the class of simple ideas received from one sense 
only, belong the varieties of colour, such as red, white, 
yellow, green, &c, which are received by the sense of 
sight. To this class also belong all the varieties of sound, 
which are received by the sense of hearing ; also the di- 
versities of taste, received from the sense of taste. 

The ideas of the sense of hearing do not belong to the 
sense of sight, nor those of sight to the sense of hearing ; 
and this is so obvious, that it is needless to attempt to prove, 
how clearly the origin of the one is distinguished from that 
of the other set of ideas. 

It may be remarked here, that not all our simple ideas 
have names. Only the prominent distinctions are thus 
marked, while there are many diversities in the sensations 
pf touch, taste, vision, and,of the other senses, which are not. 

$. 53. Of simple ideas from more than one sense. 

There are other simple ideas, which we derive from 
more than one sense, such as figure, extension, motion. 
We perceive the extension of a body originally by means 
of the touch, but subsequently, when experience has given 
tou the sense of sight its full power, are informed of it by 
the sight also. 

The same of figure and motion. 

As soon as we have learnt what significancy to attach 
to our visual perceptions, a subject, which was remarked 
upon in the third chapter, we have an idea of a statue by 
the sight and at once perceive, that it possesses form or 
figure ; but the blind man, who has not the power of see- 
ing, learns its figure no less accurately by the sense of 
touch merely. 

When a solid body is moving with any considerable 
degree of rapidity from under our hands, such is the nature 
of the sensation produced, that we are immediately satis- 
fied, that this body is changing its position. And we are 
equally satisfied of this, whether our eyes be open or shut. 



62 ORIGIN CF SIMPLE IDEAS. 

In another case, for instance, when we see a boat putting 
off from a ship, we perceive the change of position or mo- 
tion exclusively by the sight, the sense of touch being un- 
affected. 

§. 54. Of simple ideas from reflection. 

By the term, reflection, seems to be properly under- 
stood the observation of the operations of our own minds, 
as they are employed about the ideas, which they have 
gotten. Some of the simple ideas, which 1 we receive from 
this source, are these, thinking, doubting, believing, judg- 
ing, assenting. 

When a proposition is stated with little or no evidence 
attending it, the mind, in reference to that proposition, is 
put into a position, to which we give the name of doubling* 
But if the evidence be considerably increased, the mental 
estimation, which we form, is altered in regard to it, and 
to this new state of the mind we give the name of belief or 
believing. The origin of other ideas of this class is similar, 
being the result of the observation of different states or 
operations of the thinking principle within us. They are 
rightly classed as simple ideas, since they are merely simple 
perceptions, and are no more compounded and can be 
no more resolved into any subordinate elements, than our 
perceptions of colour or taste. 

§. 55. Simple ideas from both of the above mentioned 

sources. 

There are certain simple ideas, which are received both 
by reflection and also by means of the senses ; and such 
are the ideas of existence, succession, unity, and power. 
This will be the more clear from a few remarks, which re- 
main to be made on each of them separately. 

§. 5G. Of existence, unity, and succession. 

Existence is one of the ideas of this class. It is out of 
our power to define this idea, as it is all other simple ideas. 



ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 



S3 



but it is clearly suggested to us by every external object, 
which we behold. Our minds also can never have ideas, 
or. what seems to be the same thing, be in successive states, 
without an attendant impression, that those ideas or mental 
states actually and truly exist. 

The idea, expressed by the word unity, is suggested 
by whatever, whether internal or external, can be consider- 
ed as one, and can be regarded as distinct and separate 
from any other object, about which the mind is employed. 
Hence, as ideas may be regarded in this way as well as 
outward objects, unity is properly considered one of those 
notions, which may be referred both to the senses and to 
reflection, and is conveyed into the mind from those sour- 
ces in a variety of ways. 

Succession is another idea, belonging to this class. 
Our ideas, while we are awake, are constantly going in a 
train, one coming and another departing. In this way, 
having this regular appearance and disappearance of 
thought forced upon our attention, we receive the idea of 
succession ; and also by observing what takes place in ex- 
ternal objects, such as the removal of bodies and the sup- 
ply of their place by others, the changes of day and night 5 
&c. 

§. 57. Origin of our idea of poicer. 

The idea of power, like those of existence, unity, and 
succession, is sometimes suggested to us from the senses, 
or what takes place in the external world, and sometimes 
from our mental operations or rather from the effects, which 
we observe to follow certain mental acts. 

We find, by way of illustrating our meaning, that we 
are able by a mere volition to move several parts of cur 
bodies, to go from place to place, and to do other tilings 
similar. We observe also, that physical bodies, external 
to ourselves, are able to cause certain effects, one on an- 
other, and hence there is suggested to us this idea. 

But to be more explicit and to illustrate this statement 
by some instances, let it be observed, that the idea of pow- 
er connects itself closelv with cases of cause and effect' 



64 ORIGIN OF SI3IPLE IDEAS. 

and we become furnished with this idea by consulting such 
instances, whether they involve both mind and matter, or 
only material existences. 

A cause is that, which immediately and always, in simi- 
lar circumstances, is followed by a certain change ; the 
change being the sequence or effect. 

For example, fire and the melting of metals may be 
considered as standing to each other in the relation of 
cause and effect, or of antecedence and sequence j but 
although it be admitted to be true, that we know nothing 
more than the mere fact, that one precedes and the other 
follows, yet we at once and as it were of necessity have 
the idea of power. 

Again, we learn, that the loadstone has the quality of 
drawing iron, but all we can properly understand from this 
statement, is, that when the loadstone is made to approach 
the iron, the iron moves ; still we leave it to any one to say, 
whether we have not the idea of power. It is the same in 
other cases, where material bodies placed in certain cir- 
cumstances are constantly followed by changes in other 
bodies ; we associate with all such instances the idea of 
power. 

But let us in particular reflect a moment on those in- 
stances, where the antecedent to the effect produced, is 
mind, is some intellectual operation or existence. 

We exercise that desire or choice, to which we give the 
name of volition, and, immediately consequent on that vo- 
lition, there is a motion of the hand. 

In the beginning the world was in darkness ; God said, 
Let there be light, and light was. 

The Saviour said, Lazarus, come forth, and he arose 
from the dead. 

In these cases we have the antecedent and consequent, 
the volition and the effect. 

It seems to us very clear, that, in all cases when such 
antecedents and sequences are placed before the mind, es- 
pecially when the antecedent, as in the cases last mention- 
ed, is intellectual and intelligent, we immediately have 



ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 65 

the idea of power, the same as when bodies of a certain 
colour, are placed before us, and we have the idea of 
whiteness or redness. 

But we are perhaps called upon to give a definition or 
explanation of power. The reply is, that power is a simple 
and uncompounded perception. In all cases of invariable 
and immediate antecedence and sequence, it at once and 
necessarily arises in the soul. In such cases as when God 
said, Let there be light and light was ; it is an idea vivid 
and overwhelming. 

Introduced, therefore, into the mind under such cir- 
cumstances, and being a simple idea, which can be resolv- 
ed into no subordinate elements, we could give no defini- 
tion of it, if we desired to ; and to insist on a definition, 
where the idea is so obviously of such a character, seems to 
have no more reason in it, than to demand a verbal defini- 
tion of the simple perceptions of taste, of hearing, and of 
sight. 

§. 58. Of the evidence in favour of this account of the 
origin of our ideas. 

It was remarked in a preceding section, that no posi- 
tive proof could be brought in confirmation of the once 
prevalent doctrine of innate ideas, and it is natural to in- 
quire what direct and positive evidence is there in favour 
of the account, which has now been given of the origin of 
our early thoughts ? 

In answer to this inquiry let it be observed, in the first 
place, that the statement, which has been made on this 
subject, recommends itself to the common experience, to 
what every individual can testify, to a greater or less de- 
gree, in regard to himself. 

Our ideas at first are few in number ; they are suggest- 
ed by the objects, by which we are immediately surround- 
ed ; the greater number are from the senses or are forced 
upon us by our immediate wants, and a very small propor- 
tion only are abstract and remote. But we find, as we ad- 
vance in years, as we become more and more acquainted 
9 



66 ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 

with facts in the natural world, and have more acquaint- 
ance with our fellow men, our ideas multiply, our views 
are more extensive, and that we no more jump at once into 
the full stature of knowledge, than we advance without any 
intermediate growth from infancy into manhood. 

This is the general experience, the testimony, which 
each one can give for himself. 

If, in the second place, having ourselves arrived to some 
degree of mental capacity and information, we observe the 
progress^ the mind in infancy and childhood in those of 
our fellow beings, who have just entered on the early sta- 
ges of their pilgrimage, we shall find, as far as we are able 
to judge from the facts coming within our observation, the 
same process going on in them, which our consciousness of 
the present and our memory of the past, " even from our 
boyish days," enables us to testify with no little confidence 
in our own case. 

To the infant its nursery is the world. Its first idea? 
of the human race are its particular conceptions of its nurse 
and its mother ; and the origin and history of all its no- 
tions may be traced to its animal wants, to the light, that 
breaks in from its window, and the few objects in the im- 
mediate neighbourhood of the cradle and of the hearth. 

And, in the third place, it is not too much to say, that 
all the observations, which have been made on persons, 
who from their birth or at any subsequent period, have been 
deprived of any of the senses, and all the extraordinary 
facts, which have come to knowledge, having a bearing on 
this inquiry, go strongly in favour of the views which have 
been given. 

It appears, for instance, from the observations, which 
have been made in regard to persons, who have been deaf 
until a particular period, and then have been restored to 
the faculty of hearing, that they have never previously had 
those ideas, which naturally come in by that sense. If a 
person has been born blind, the result is the same ; or if 
having the sense of sight, it has so happened, that he has 
never seen any colours of a particular description. In the 



ORIGIN OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 67 

one case he has no ideas of colours at all, and in the other, 
only of those colours, which he has seen. 

Of those extraordinary instances, to which we alluded, 
as having thrown some light on the history of our intellec- 
tual acquisitions, is the account, which is given in the Me- 
moirs of the French Academy of Sciences for the year 1703, 
of a deaf and dumb young man in the city of Chartres. 
At the age of three and twenty, it so happened, to the great 
surprise of the whole town, that he was suddenly restored 
to the sense of hearing, and in a short time he acquired the 
use of language. Deprived for so long a period of a sense, 
which in importance ranks with the sight and the touch, 
unable to hold communication with his fellow beings by 
means of oral or written language, and not particularly 
compelled, as he had every care taken of him by his 
friends, to bring his faculties into exercise, the powers of 
his mind remained without having opportunity to unfold 
themselves. Being examined by some men of discernment, 
it was found, that he had no idea of a God, of a soul, of 
the moral merit or demerit of human actions, and what 
might seem to be yet more remarkable, he knew not what it 
was to die ; the agonies of dissolution, the grief of friends, 
and the ceremonies of interment being to him inexplicable 
mysteries. 

Here we see how much knowledge a person was depri- 
ved of, merely by his wanting the single sense of hearing ; 
a proof that the senses were designed by our Creator to be 
the original sources of knowledge, and that without them 
the faculties of the soul would never become operative. 

The instance of the young man of Chartres is more 
particularly examined into, in Condillac's Essay on the Ori- 
gin of Knowledge, at Section fourth of Part first, and the 
whole book may well be consulted by those, who wish for 
further information on this whole inquiry. 

§. 59. Simple ideas the elements of all our knowledge. 

Admitting the correctness of the views, which have 
been given, it follows, that from our simple ideas all others 
are derived. 



08 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 

As to the power, which we possess over the ideas in the 
mind, it may be observed, that we have no power to des- 
troy or annul them by a mere volition ; nor does it appear, 
that we are always able to detain an idea in the mind and 
make it an object of contemplation to the entire exclusion 
of others, at least, for any length of time. We can exert 
this power only in an imperfect degree. 

But we have power, 

(1) Of comparing ideas together in various respects, 
such as extent, degrees, time, place. 

We have the power, ; 

(2) of combining or compounding, an operation, by 
means of which we form what are termed complex ideas 
out of two or more simple ones variously put together. 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 



SIMPLE AND mSXSD ZKODE3. 



<§. 60, Division of complex ideas into three kinds. 

Those ideas, which are purely simple, are few in num- 
ber, and may all be either traced, on the one hand, to some 
affection of the senses, or, on the other, to reflection, 
which is that observation or notice, which the mind takes 
of its own operations. But by the aid of the small num- 
ber of simple ideas, a vast number of others are formed, 
which are termed complex. The power, which we pos- 
sess, of forming complex ideas from simple ones, may be 
compared to our power of uniting together the letters of 
the alphabet in the formation of words, which are of them- 
selves few in number, but lay the foundation of almost innu- 
merable combinations. 

Complex ideas arc divided into three kinds, modes, sub- 
stances, and RELATIONS. 

Modes are that class of complex ideas, which are sup- 



SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 



6§ 



posed not to exist independently by themselves, but are 
rather the dependencies on, the attributes, or the affections 
of substances ; such as are expressed by the words, hon- 
our, gratitude, treachery, robbery, and also by the names 
of numbers and of mathematical figures, as dozen, twenty, 
square, parallelogram. 

On this class or division of complex ideas we are to 
remark first ; and shall consider them under two heads, 
viz., simple modes and mixed modes. 

<§. 61. Of complex ideas called simple modes. 

Simple modes are complex ideas, made up of those sim- 
ple ideas, which are all of the same kind ; in other words, 
they are merely different modifications of the same original 
thought, carried on to a greater or less extent, but without 
any intermixture of foreign materials. 

Of this class of ideas are a dozen, a score, a thousand, 
which are simple modes formed by the repeated addition 
of units as far on as the collections, specified by those 
names. 

To this class belong ideas of time, as an hour, a day, 
a month, a year ; and also ideas of extension in length, as 
a furlong, a mile, a league. 

i. 62. Of simple modes from number. 

The idea of unity is derived in some instances from 
the senses. That is to say, it is always suggested to the 
mind, whenever we find ourselves able to consider any ex- 
ternal object, as distinct and separate from other objects. 
The consciousness also, which we cannot avoid, that the 
mind has different ideas or is in different states, and that, 
consequently, there is a real line of distinction between 
each succeeding state and that, which went before, gives 
us the same notion of unity or oneness. So that it is an 
idea, which we become possessed of, both by means of the 
senses, and from reflection ; but it is a simple idea, as we 
cannot resolve it into any thing more elementary. 



70 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 

What are termed the simple modes of number, are- 
formed by the repeating or addition of the original idea, 
and it is worthy of remark, that there is the utmost distinct- 
ness, a marked line of separation between each mode. The 
numbers, one, two, and three, are as distinct and separate 
from each other, as one hundred and two hundred. 

Names are necessary to numbers. We repeat the idea 
of an unit, and this repetition or addition becomes a col- 
lective idea, to which we give the name of two. To the 
collective or complex idea, which arises on the addition of 
another unit, we give the name of three ; all enumeration 
feeing only the addition of units with the giving of names 
to the collective ideas thus formed. As diversities in num- 
bers are only differences of more or less, and are not dis- 
tinguished from each other by size or colour, or in other 
ways, but only by addition and subtraction, there seems 
to be the more need of names. If it should be admitted 
to be possible, that we may have simple modes of number 
without giving names, it is very evident, that without names 
we could not employ them in enumeration ; so that they 
would in that case be entirely useless. 

We find, that many uncivilized tribes of savages are 
unable to carry enumeration to any great extent, not be- 
cause their minds are naturally incapable of this operation* 
but in consequence of the scanty materials of their lan- 
guages. Mr. Locke mentions a Brazilian tribe, called the 
Tououpinambos, who had no names for numbers above five ; 
any number beyond that they made out by showing their 
fingers and the fingers of those, who were present. When 
savages wish to express a very large number, they remind 
us of the leaves on the trees, the stars in the sky, and the 
«ands on the sea-shore. 

And the same remark a little qualified will apply to 
communities somewhat raised above the savage state. 
Thus Abraham was led abroad at night, and was command- 
ed to try and number the stars ; a much more expressive 
intimation of the great increase of his posterity, than could 
have been conveyed by the restricted power of the He- 



SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 71 

brew numerals. See also the passage in the seventh of Judg- 
es, where the camels of the Midianites arc compared to 
the sand by the sea-side for multitude. 

». In view of these remarks, two rules may be laid down 
in regard to correct enumeration, 

(1) That the mind distinguish carefully two ideas, 
which differ from each other only by the addition or sub- 
traction of an unit ; 

(2) That it retain in memory the names or marks of the 
several intermediate combinations from an unit to the num- 
ber, which completes the sum. Without an observance of 
these directions no one can be assured, that he has made a 
correct enumeration. 

$. 63. Extraordinary instance of skill in the use of 

numbers. 
A peculiar instance of ability in the combination of numb- 
ers may properly be mentioned here ; observing, however, in 
regard to the statement, that we have no other authority for 
its correctness than the weekly gazettes, but we see no 
reason to doubt its correctness. 

A young lad in the State of Georgia, at this time (1826) 
ten years of age, can reduce any given number of miles to 
inches, years to seconds, &c, performing the whole ope- 
rations in his head, and will give the result as quick as an 
expert calculator can with a pen. Among the questions 
asked him, were the following, which he solved with ease 
and expedition ; How many inches are there in 1 ,373,489 
miles ? How often will a wheel, 5 ft. 6 in. in diameter, turn 
over in ninety miles ? What is the cube root of 24,743,682 ? 
He has on more than one occasion, and even before he was 
nine years of age, raised the number twelve to its fifteenth 
power — that is to say — multiplied that number into itself 
fifteen times. He can multiply three figures by three fig- 
ures. This faculty was discovered in the lad at about 
eight years of age and has greatly improved since. 

Some might look upon this^ as a sort of supernatural 
intuition ; but certainly without good reason. It is indeed 
extraordinary, but is a mere act of the memory, and differs 



72 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 

from ordinary cases, only in going so far beyond the reach 
of ordinary power. The distinction between the numbers- 
is kept up '; if he have any new method of combining the 
numbers, he is under the same necessity with others of 
giving separate names to each combination ; there is no 
embarrassment, but the perception is exceedingly rapid, 
and the power of memory wonderful. 

§. 64. Simple modes from duration. 

It was remarked in speaking of our simple ideas, that 
our idea of succession was obtained in this way. Our 
ideas, while we are awake, are constantly going in a train, 
one coming and another departing. In this way, having 
this regular appearance and disappearance of thought 
forced upon our attention, we receive the idea of succes- 
sion : and also by observing what takes place in external 
objects, such as the removal of bodies and the supply of 
their place by others, the changes of day and night, &c. 

It is by the aid of the simple idea of succession, that 
we form the idea of duration, the ideas formed from which 
last have a claim to be ranked with the simple modes. 

We are conscious not only of our existence, but of the 
continuance of our existence, or of our personal identity; 
we take it for granted, or rather it is forced upon us as an 
original characteristick of our minds, in every thing we do, 
in every step of reasoning. This indelible conviction, that 
we are what we have been, being considered in connection 
with our succession of ideas, gives rise to our idea of du- 
ration. So that whenever we can speak of our existence 
as commensurate with or measured by a certain number of 
ideas, we are furnished with this additional notion, to which 
the name of duration is given. 

As we cannot have the notion of duration without suc- 
cession, hence it happens, that we know nothing of dura- 
tion, when we are perfectly asleep, because we know not, 
that there are then any of those intellectual changes, which 
we term succession of ideas. If a person could sleep with 
a perfect suspension of all his intellectual operations from 



SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 73 

this time until the resurrection, the whole of that period 
would appear to him as nothing. Ten thousand years 
passed under such circumstances would be less than a 
watch in the night. 

That it is only by comparing that consciousness, which, 
when awake, ever attends us, of the permanency of our own 
existence, with that ever successive change of states, to 
which the immaterial part of our being is subject, that we 
acquire our notions of duration, is in some measure proved 
by a variety of facts, which have been ascertained and pre- 
served. 

There is, for example, in the French work, VHisioire de 
VAcademie Royafa des Sciences pour Vannee, 1719, a statement 
to the following effect. 

There was in Lausanne a nobleman, who, as he was 
giving orders to a servant, suddenly lost his speech and all 
his senses. Different remedies were tried, but, for a very 
considerable time, without effect. For six months he ap- 
peared to be in a deep sleep, unconscious of every thing. 
At the end of that period, however, resort having been had 
to certain chirurgical Operations, he was suddenly restored 
to his speech and the exercise of his understanding. When 
he recovered, the servant, to whom he had been giving or- 
ders, when he was first seized with the distemper, happen- 
ing to be in the room, he asked him, if he had done what 
he had ordered him to, not being sensible, that any interval, 
except perhaps a very short one, had elapsed during his ill- 
ness. 

We get the idea of time, by considering any part of 
duration, as set or marked off by periodical measures, such 
as days or years. And it should be remarked, when we 
consider our design of tracing all our ideas to sensation 
and reflection, that we obtain the idea of these lengths or 
measures by means of the senses, viz. by our observation of 
the annual and diurnal revolutions of the sun. 

Under the simple modes from duration, then, may be 
reckoned minutes, hours, days, months, years, indeed every 
division, of which duration is susceptible. 
10 



^4 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 

$. 65; Simple modes from extension. 

To extension, which is a simple idea, derived from the 
senses of sight and touch, we give the name of length, when 
it is contemplated as existing only in one direction. 

All our artificial measures of extension, such as an inch, 
a foot, a yard, a furlong, a mile, a league, a degree, what- 
ever may be the process of the mind in forming those mea- 
sures, are among its simple modes. 

That is to say, if we adopt an inch as the original mea- 
surement or the unit, from which we are to begin, then a 
foot consists of parts of extension, signified by the term 
inch, multiplied twelve times ; and a yard is the same mea- 
sure, increased or multiplied thirty six times. 

§. 66. Idea of infinity. 

Of our idea of infinity it seems difficult to give any sat- 
isfactory explanation or to say with certainty where it 
should be classed, but there are three things, with which 
we are in the habit of connecting it, viz. number, duration, 
and extension. 

We form the idea of infinity of number by adding num- 
bers as far as possible, with the additional notion, that this 
process may be carried on to any extent. 

We form the idea of infinity of duration by repeating 
the ideas of time, such as an hour or a day, the same as in 
number. N 

We obtain the idea of infinity of extension, or rather of 
that modification of extension, which is termed length, in 
the same manner, by repeating the ideas of an inch, a foot, 
a yard, or some other measure, always feeling, when we 
have carried on this addition to the utmost extent of whiclji 
we are capable, that it may be prosecuted still further, in- 
definitely. 

We seem to ourselves to receive the clearest idea of 
infinity from number, because the distinction between all 
its modes is very accurately marked, so that we have a well 
defined perception of it. Indeed it does not appear, that, 



SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 75 

without the assistance of number, we could ever form the 
ideas of infinity of duration and extension. 

We obtain the idea of eternity by supposing our ideas 
of time, for instance, a month or year, repeated in both di- 
rections, in time past as well as in that which is to come, 
always keeping the idea of the possibility of the further 
prosecution of this process of repeating. 

§. 67. Of the complex ideas called mixed mpdes. 

Mixed modes are complex ideas, the attributes or de- 
pendencies of substances, compounded of simple ideas of 
different kinds. Instances are the ideas of theft, murder, 
gratitude, &e. 

Theft is a change of property without the consent of 
the owner ; consequently, embraces among other ideas, 
differing from each other, those of ownership, transference, 
and consent. 

Murder is putting a person to death with evil inten- 
tion or malice aforethought ; consequently includes the 
ideas of man, death, evil feelings. 

Gratitude is an emotion of love or complacency to* 
wards a person for some act of kindness, which he has 
done to us. In this mixed mode, therefore, we have refer- 
ence, not only to the person, who has received the bene- 
fit, but to the person, who conferred it, as well as to the 
act itself and the intellectual emotion excited. 

§. d8. Three ways of forming mixed modes. 

There are three ways in particular, in which we appear 
to receive into the mind mixed modes. 

(1) The first method is by experience or observation of 
the things themselves. 

We see a person wrestling, swimming, or fencing, and 
thence learn the ideas, conveyed by those words. 

(2) The second method is by invention or voluntarily 
putting together several simple ideas in our own minds. 

The person, that first invented etching or printing, had 
an acquaintance both with the complex ideas, and some 



76 SIMPLE AND MIXED MODES. 

subordinate ideas conveyed in those terms, before they 
could have existed in the minds of others. 

(3) Third method, — By taking ideas, which already 
exist in the mind, and which, being generally known, may 
be considered common property, and combining them to- 
gether ; for example in the word, falsehood. 

By examining the mixed modes and tracing them to 
their original elements, we shall find them ultimately con- 
nected with the great sources of our knowledge, sensation 
and reflection. 

$. 69. Not the same mixed modes in all languages. 

The customs, habits, modes of thinking, political insti- 
tutions, &c are not the same in all countries, but differ in 
greater or less degree. Hence there is need of different 
expressions that is, of expressions in one language not pre- 
cisely corresponding to expressions in another. 

Thus the word, ostrakismos in the Greek, proscriptio 
in the Latin, and corban in the Hebrew, expressed ideas, 
to which most other nations found nothing precisely cor- 
responding, and, consequently, had no corresponding term. 

This suggests a remark on the changes, which take 
place in languages. It is well known, that there are con- 
stant alterations in customs, and hardly less frequent 
fluctuations in feeling and opinion, and hence there 
necessarily arise new combinations of thought or ideas ; 
and these must be expressed by new names. 

If people should be found unable or unwilling to invent 
new names for the expression of new complex ideas, they 
would evidently be subjected to great inconvenience. 
This may be seen, if we deprive ourselves of the benefit of 
any complex terms, for instance, reprieve and appeal, and 
attempt to converse on the subjects, where they naturally 
occur. 

We do not consider a mixed mode, as actually existing 
in a language without a name. 

The number of mixed modes, therefore, in any lan- 
guage, although it might be greatly increased, is looked 



IDEAS OF substanceJ 77 

upon as limited by the number of names or words, by 
which they are expressed. 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 



§. 70. What we are to understand by ideas of substance. 

In regard to those material bodies, by which we are 
surrounded, we can properly and in truth be said to have 
a knowledge only of those qualities in them, which are the 
cause of our simple ideas, or of tyhich our simple ideas are 
representative. We truly knoW this, and nothing more ; 
it being altogether beyond our power to form an ac- 
quaintance with that, whatever it is, which is imagined 
to be the essence, substratum, or support of these qual- 
ities. 

The sentiment here conveyed is expressed in shorter 
terms by saying, that our knowledge of bodies is limited 
to the knowledge of their properties. 

An idea of substance is that complex state of the mind, 
which considers a number of qualities, belonging to any 
particular substance as one, or as naturally and permanent- 
ly united. And this is the second general division or class 
of our complex ideas. 

Instances are the complex ideas, expressed by the 
words, sun, loadstone, man, horse, iron, tree, indeed all 
those intellectual states, which correspond to that great 
variety of separate, material objects, which continually 
come beneath our inspection. 

In the idea of man we have, among others, the simple 
ideas of figure, colour, motion, conscience. 

<§. 71. Spiritual existences included under this class. 
But ideas of substance are not to be limited, as might 



78 IDEAS OP SUBSTANCE. 

at first from these remarks be inferred, to material objects ; 
this division includes many from another source. Under 
this class is to be included our ideas of spiritual existences, 
of the mind, of the soul in its disembodied state, of angels, 
of God himself. 

It is true, they are not substances in the ordinary mean- 
ing of the term, that is, they are not material substances, 
like the sensible objects, with which we are so much con- 
versant, and to which we almost exclusively apply that 
name. 

But they are substances in this sense, — they are real 
and not imaginary, — they have an existence, — they are not 
the mere relations of one thing to another, not the mere 
dependencies on them, but the things themselves. 

But some will doubt, whether we have that clear knowl- 
edge of mind and of spiritual things in general, which we 
have of bodies material ; and on this ground think, that 
they ought not to be included in the same division of our 
complex notions. — This is a point, worthy a moment's 
notice. 

§. 72. Our knowledge of spirit the same as of matter. 

Although it may appear strange to some, when we say, 
that we know no more of matter, about which we are daily 
conversant, and which we see and touch, than concerning 
mental or spiritual existences, which our bodily senses are 
unable to approach and examine, it i» a sentiment at last 
almost universally received, and with the very, best reason. 
It has already been remarked of matter, that we know 
nothing concerning it but by its properties, and we know 
nothing of immaterial existences likewise, except by their 
properties ; and our knowledge?, therefore, is in both cases 
on the same footing, being the same in kind at least, if not 
in degree. Our acquaintance witli the properties of ma- 
terial bodies may possibly go further than our acquaintance 
with those of mind, but it is in both cases circumscribed 
by the eama> limitation, unable to advance beyond those 
properties. 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 79 

Observing certain mental operations, thinking, remem- 
bering, willing, assenting, doubting, and the like, we can- 
not avoid the conviction of the existence of something, to 
which they belong, or of which they are qualities ; and we 
call it spirit or a spiritual being. 

The same of matter ; — we learn its qualities,, primary 
and secondary, colour, extension, figure, motion, divisibili- 
ty, &c. ; and these, viewed by the mind in their state of 
combination or as having a common ^d coetaneous ori- 
gin, give us the i^ea of what w r e call matter or substance. 

If it be asked, how it happens, that we so uniformly re- 
fer these operations to what we term substance* or spirit, 
or rather how they are so promptly suggested on the ob- 
servation of the properties, (there being an universal b&> 
lief in the existence of the material and spiritual world,) 
the only answer is that, already remarked upon in the 
second chapter ; viz. That wejhus constituted ; we are under 
a sort of necessity, in consequence of the natural tenden- 
cies of our constitution, of connecting with the appearan- 
ces, which we witness, the idea of a really existing some- 
thing, which we call, either matter or mind, material or 
spiritual, according to the character of those appearances. 

But when this idea is once suggested, we are taught by 
the inutility of our efforts to proceed any further, that we 
have reached one boundary of our knowledge, which we 
cannot pass ; and that while we have an idea of matter and 
spirit, and cannot but believe in their existence, we know no 
more of them, nor shall we probably ever know more, than 
those appearances and operations, whatever they may be ? 
which they shall exhibit. 

§. 73. Of cohesion of bodies and motion by impulse. 

If there be any, who, after what has been said, think 
they understand matter better than they do spirit, then 
would we desire them to give an explanation of what that 
is in matter, which is termed cohesion. That the particle* 
of gold, of iron, of water, and other materia! bodies are 
held together by what is termed cohesion, is a fact, which 



80 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 



being within our daily observation, no one is inclined to 
doubt, but it is the fact only which we know, and nothing- 
more. 

One body impinging on another puts it in motion, and 
we term it motion by impulse. But how motion passes 
from one body to another, when the particles of those bodies 
come in contact, if indeed there can be any actual con- 
tact, is by no means so easy to be determined. It will be 
found as difficult to be understood and explained as any 
of those obstacles, which are supposed to stand in the way 
of a full knowledge of spiritual existences. 

Some further illustrations of this subject in particular 
instances remain to be made. 

§. 74. Explanations on certain ideas of this class. 

If called upon to give an account of the loadstone, 
which is the name of one of the many ideas of substance, 
we could give no other answer than by an enumeration of 
its qualities, — something, which has colour, hardness, fri- 
ability, power to draw iron. 

The sun has been mentioned, as one among the com- 
plex ideas of substances, but little mo*re do we know of it 
than this, that it is an aggregate of certain qualities or sim- 
ple ideas, such as brightness, heat, roundness, regularity 
of motion. 

We say of gold, that it is a combination of the qualities 
of yellowness, great weight, fusibility, ductility, &c. exist- 
ing together, and forming the material substance, to which 
we give that name. 

v\. 75. Remarks on complexity in the states of the mind. 

It would seem from the statement thus far given in re- 
gard to our ideas of substance, that there is in this class of 
<;ur thoughts a complexity in the state of the mind, corres- 
ponding to the complexity in the object, and without this 
complexity, in all cases, of the intellectual principle, there 
«:ainiot be what is termed a complex idea. But it is not to be 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 81 

thought, that we arrive at this ultimate complexity of men- 
tal state by a single act, by an undivided and inseparable 
movement of the mind, although, such is the rapidity of 
the process, it may in some cases seem to be so. 

On the contrary, every simple idea, involved in, and 
forming a part of the compound, so far aS we have any dis- 
tinct conception of the compounded idea, passes under a 
rapid review, and the complex state of the mind or com- 
plex idea is the result of this rapid review. 

We cannot, for instance, have a complex idea of man, 
of iron, or of a tree, without having first, at some time, sub- 
jected each simple idea of which it is made up, to a partic- 
ular examination. 

This glance of the mind at the various simple ideas is 
performed indeed with such extreme quickness, at least 
generally so, that the successive steps of it are not recollect- 
ed ; but this, when we consider the rapidity of the mind's 
Operations in other instances, is no sufficient objection to 
the statement, which has been made. 

The process in the formation of complex ideas goes 
on from step to step, from one simple idea to another, but 
when the examination is completed, the ultimate state of 
the mind, which the completion Of the process implies, is 
not to be considered as in any degree wanting in unity or 
oneness. 

<j. 76. Connection existing behveen material substances 
to be considered. 

In forming our complex ideas of substances, it is highly 
important, that they should be conformed, as nearly as pos- 
sible, to the real nature of things ; and that we should not 
combine in the idea any thing, which is not in the sub- 
stance. And in order to this, it should be remembered, 
that bodies are operated upon one by another, and exhibit 
to us different qualities, in consequence of this operation. 

One of the qualities of gold is yellowness, but break 

off entirely the intercourse between the particles of gold 

and the rays of light, and yellowness ceases. Life and 

-motion are ideas, which commonly enter into our complex. 

11 



32 IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 

notion of animals, but deprive them of air ; and life and 
motion are gone. 

We would not say, that, in these particular instances, 
in our complex ideas of gold and of animal, that these 
ideas, yellowness, life, and motion are to be struck out ; 
but use them merely as an illustration, that in making up 
our complex notion of any substances, we are to consider 
not only the objects themselves, but also to take into view 
other objects, which have an influence on them. 

§. 77. Of chimerical ideas of substances. 

There are certain ideas, the consideration of which 
properly falls in this chapter, termed chimerical ; the ideas, 
for example expressed by the words, centaur, dragon, hypo- 
grifT, harpy. 

The centaur is represented, as an animal, partly man, 
and partly horse. The dragon is supposed to be an im- 
mense serpent furnished with wings and capable of making 
its way through the atmosphere by their aid. The hypo- 
griff is an imaginary horse, capable of performing aerial 
journeys in the same way. 

Ideas of this kind are termed chimerical, because there 
is nothing corresponding to them in nature, — there is no 
reality of the sort intimated by the term. 

If a person were known to have an idea of a body, 
yellow or of some other colour, malleable, fixed, possess- 
ing in a word all the qualities of iron or of gold with this 
difference only, of its being lighter than water, it would 
be what we term a chimerical idea — that is — it would 
have nothing corresponding to it in the nature of things. 

§. 78. Of what is meant by real ideas. 

Real ideas arc the opposite of chimerical, having a 
correspondence with natural things, or being such ideas as 
things in their true nature arc fitted to produce. 

Hence simple ideas are real, because there can be no 
simple idea, except it be such as nature in some of its 
forms is fitted to produce within us ; — also simple modes 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE] 83 

are real, because they are only the multiplications or rep- 
etitions of some simple idea. 

Excepting such chimerical ideas, as were mentioned in 
the preceding section, viz. dragon, centaur, faery, harpy, 
hypogrifF, ghost, hobgoblin, iron lighter than water, &c» 
all ideas of substance are real. But when we speak of 
ideas of substance, with such exceptions as above, being 
real, we do not mean, to say, that they do perfectly and in 
all respects represent their corresponding objects. 

! In our complex idea of gold, we combine the simple 
ideas of yellowness, weight, malleability, and perhaps oth- 
ers, but probably none combine, in their conception of it, 
all its properties ; so that, although we speak of it, as a 
veal, we do not speak of it, as a perfect or adequate idea. 
The same of other instances. 

Further, it may be incidentally remarked, that chimer- 
ical ideas are in general formed in times of ignorance and 
superstition, and people suppose themselves to see what in 
.truth never was seen by them. 

§. 79. Importance of having real ideas. 

Ideas are the elements or materials, about which the 
mind is employed in its yarious operations, and without 
which we can neither have opinion, nor faith, nor reason- 
ing, nor knowledge. It is true, that those ideas, which are 
termed chimerical, and of which there are no archetypes 
in nature, admit of being compared together, and if we 
adopt the definition given by Mr. Locke, that knowledge 
is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of 
ideas, they may be considered as furnishing grounds of 
knowledge, but the superstructure will partake of the char- 
acter of the foundation ; in other words, it will be chimer- 
ical. 

We might ever so long puzzle ourselves in the investi- 
gation of such fantastical thoughts, and in the end be none 
the wiser. 

The greater number a person has of such ideas, he is 
so much the poorer, as we do not account a man rich, 



$4 IDEAS Or SUBSTANCE. 

whose coffers are filled with "hay, wood, and' stubble," in* 
stead of the precious metals. 

Every person, therefore, is not to be considered well 
furnished, who has a great number of ideas, merely from 
the circumstance of the greatness of their number ; but 
their character in various respects, their justness, their ob- 
jects, and their conformity to those objects are to be taken 
into consideration ; which is much the same as to say, that 
a few real ideas are of more value, than many chimerical 
ones. 

§. 80. Of our ideas of angels. 

We have our knowledge of mind in the same way as 
of matter, that is, by an observation of its qualities. And 
we are led from the accounts given of celestial messengers, 
to conceive of that class of beings, to which the term, 
angels, is applied,, as if there were some resemblance or 
analogy, existing between ouf minds and them ; in other 
words, we regard them, as spiritual or immaterial. 

But we $o not speak of them, as to their nature and 
powers, with the same degree of confidence, with which 
we speak of the human mind and of matter, since they are 
a class of beings, not coming under the examination of the 
senses, neither are they to be examined by us in the way, 
in which we can form an acquaintance with our own inteU 
lectual part. 

For our knowledge, therefore, of angels and of any 
other class of beings superior to ourselves but subordinate 
to the Deity, we must rest satisfied with what information 
is given us in the Holy Scriptures. 

§.81. Origin of tJu idea of God. 

Arriong the complex ideas, included under this class, 
is to be mentioned in particular that of God ; and the ori- 
gin of it on the principles of Mr. Locke, which are in the 
main adopted in this book, seems to be naturally account- 
ed for in this way. 

We suppose a person entirely separated from the rest 



IDEAS OF SUBSTANCE. 85 

of the world, dwelling in some distant island, and furnish- 
ed, as it were, only with the senses, and with the variety of 
objects around him, fitted to operate upon them. 

He will, in the first place, connect together certain 
things, as antecedents and consequents, or what is the same 
thing, as causes and effects, such as the waving of woods 
and the blowing of the wind, the wearing away of the 
shore and the motion of the waves against it. 

Having in this way formed an idea of antecedent and 
consequent, it will be found, in the second place, that the 
thought will, ere a long period, arise slowly and dimly in his 
mind, that those appearances in nature, which he has been 
in the habit of regarding as antecedents or causes, should 
themselves have a cause ; that while the tempest breaks 
down in his own sight the forest, there should, and must be 
some one to guide the storm, and while the shore crumbles 
beneath the incursions of the ocean, there must be some- 
thing, though where or what it is, he cannot tell, which 
both pushes on and restrains its raging. 

The idea at first, it must be admitted, is an obscure 
one, but it in time becomes less so ; for nothing can be 
more true than the assertion of the Psalmist, that, in refer- 
ence to the glory of God, " Day unto day uttereth speech, 
and night unto night showeth knowledge." 

We remarked in regard to the great first Cause, which 
the natural workings of soul in our solitary islander will 
sooner or later inevitably discover, that he is unable to say, 
where or what it is ; and this inability becomes in the end, 
a favourable circumstance. He cannot say of that first 
Cause, that it is in the stars, or in the ocean, or in the wild 
waste of the wilderness, but conscious of this inability to 
discover it in any particular place, he learns to identify it 
not with one merely, but with every " local habitation," and 
to associate it with all unmeasured space, and although he 
can in one sense say, it is no where, he can, in another, 
say, God is every where. 



86 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 



X3DSAS OP HBIsATZO^. 



$• 82. WTta/ we are to understand by ideas of relation. 

The third, general division of our complex ideas is into 
ideas of relation, which are formed by the comparison of 
our thoughts, one with another. 

The mind, in the exercise of its various operations, 
has the power of considering objects or rather the ideas 
standing for objects, in such a manner that it does, as it 
were, bring them together and set them side by side, and 
see how they conform to each other, or how they differ ; — 
in other words, discovers their relations. Take this illus- 
tration. 

When we consider Lorenzo, as distinct and separate 
from all others of his fellow beings, and make Lorenzo 
alone and exclusively the subject of our contemplations, 
we have merely the complex idea of a man, bearing that 
name. But then Lorenzo may be a father, a son, a broth- 
er, a citizen, a legislator ; these terms express ideas of re- 
lation. 

When we speak of Lorenzo as a father, the mind first 
turns itself from the man himself to his children, and hav- 
ing considered the relation they sustain, with sufficient rea- 
son ascribes to him the attribute of paternity. 

Any of our ideas, already existing in the mind, may lay 
the foundation of other ideas of relation, since they may 
in general be compared together, or, at least, if they can- 
not themselves be readily placed side by side, may be the 
occasion of bringing others into comparison. 

§. 83. Of the great number of our ideas of relation. 

Mr. Locke has the remark, that it would make a vol- 
«rne to go over all sorts of relations, and with good reason ; 



IDEAS OF RELATION. 87 

since they are as numerous, as that almost endless variety 
of respects, in which our ideas may be compared together, 
and of that multitude of circumstances, which are to be 
taken into view in such comparisons. With the single 
idea of man how many others are connected in conse- 
quence of the various relations, which he sustains ! 

He may, at one and the same time, be a father, broth- 
er, son, grandfather, grandson, father-in-law, son-in-law, 
husband, friend, enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, 
client, professor, European, Englishman, islander, servant, 
master, possessor, superiour inferiour, bigger, less, older, 
younger, contemporary, like, unlike, together with sustain- 
ing a variety of other relations too numerous to be men- 
tioned. We shall not pretend, therefore, to exhaust the 
subject, but shall leave it to the reader more fully to pur- 
sue it, as opportunity and inclination may prompt, having 
first submitted to him a few prominent hints. 

§. 84. Of the use of correlative terms. 

Correlative terms are such terms, as are used to express 
corresponding ideas of relation. 

They suggest the relations with great readiness, and by 
means of them the mind can be more steadily, and longer, 
and with less pain, fixed upon the ideas, of which they are 
expressive. The words, father and son, legislator and con- 
stituents, brother and sister, husband and wife, and others 
©f this class, as soon as they are named, at once carry our 
thoughts beyond the persons, who are the subjects of these 
relations, to the relations themselves. Wherever, there- 
fore, there are correlative tejms, the relations may be ex- 
pected to be clear to the mind. 

The word, concubine, is a relative term, but there be- 
ing no word correlative, expressing a corresponding rela- 
tion, we find it more difficult to form a conception of the 
thing signified, than of brother, which has the correlative, 
sister, and of wife, which has the correlative, husband. 

It should be remembered, that the relation is something 
different from the things related. 



88 IDEAS OF RELATION. 

A person may sustain the relation and be called a fa- 
ther to-day, and to-morrow his children may be dead ; still 
he is the same man, though this relation has ceased. The 
relations, which we sustain are frequently changing,, while 
the subjects of them are the same. 

§. 85. Of proportional relations. 

Among the various, subordinate divisions, of which our 
relations are susceptible, there is one class, including a 
considerable number of ideas of this kind, called propor- 
tional RELATIONS. 

In this minor division may be included all those ideas, 
which are capable of being considered as made up of parts 
or as susceptible of different degrees ; and of consequence, 
admitting of being compared as to more or less. Hence 
their name, because we consider the proportion which they 
sustain to others, as to size or degrees. 

Instances are whiter, sweeter, holier, larger, smaller, 
nobler, — indeed all adjectives, which admit of being put 
into the comparative or superlative. 

We cannot say of one apple, that it is sweeter than an- 
other, or of one man, that he is holier than another, with- 
out involving the supposition, that they have been compar- 
ed together, the apples as to their degrees of sweetness, 
and the persons spoken of as to their degrees of holiness. 

<§. 86. Certain terms are relative which are supposed 
to be positive. 

There are certain terms also, whether they are to be 
classed with the proportional relations or not, is not essen- 
tial to inquire, but which are supposed to be positive terms 
and not to intimate any comparison or relative considera- 
tion of other ideas ; — we allude to no small number of ad- 
jectives in the positive degree ; — take as instances, the 
epithets wise, ignorant, rich, poor, old, young. However 
these may at first tight appear to be entirely positive, and 
have been considered to be so, and as excluding any com- 
parative references, they may be found on examination t.» 



IDEAS OF RELATION. 89 

be of a somewhat different character from what has often 
been imagined. 

Let it, then, be considered what we mean, when we 
say of a person, He is old ; we evidently compare him in 
regard to his age, whenever we use those expressions, 
with others, with people in general,; and place the par- 
ticular number of years, to which he^may have attained, 
by the side of that period, which we are in the habit of re- 
garding as the ordinary limit of man's pilgrimage. 

The same, when we say of any person, that he is young; 
he is then considered as falling far short of an assumed pe- 
riod, an approximation to which gives to another person 
the reputation of age. 

Again, when we say of any individual, that he is wise 
or ignorant, we tacitly make a comparison of what he has 
learnt with the acquisitions of mankind in general. If it 
exceed the ordinary sum of human knowledge, we call him 
wise ; if it fall short, he is characterized, as ignorant. 

Accordingly, a comparison of this sort being implied 
in the use of epithets, a North American savage, or a per- 
son of any other uncivilized race, might enjoy the reputa- 
tion of great wisdom among his own people, who could 
not but be accounted ignorant in any philosophical socie- 
ty of a civilized nation. 

§. 87. Of ideas of natural relations. 

Secondly; Having mentioned proportional relations, 
as forming a minor or subordinate division of this third, 
general class of our complex ideas, it is to be noticed here, 
that there is another, a second occasion of comparing 
things together, so as to ascertain ideas of relation ; viz. 
When we consider their orjgin or beginning, and see how 
other things stand in reference to that origin. And such 
ideas as are ascertained in this way, and are found to re- 
sult, as it were, from creation and nature, are what are 
termed ideas of natural relations. 

It seems to be particularly characteristick of those re- 
lations, which we have now in view, that they are perma- 
12 



90 IDEAS OF RELATION. 

nent ; meaning by the remark, that they are not altered and 
brought to an end by ordinary circumstances ; but, as they 
begin to exist at the moment of birth, will be found to ter- 
minate only with the life either of the subject of the rela- 
tion or of the correlated person. 

Such are the ideas of father, brother, son, nephew, &c. 

Mr. Locke mentions the term, countrymen, that is, 
those, who were born in the same country or tract of 
ground, as belonging here. 

§. 88. Of ideas of instituted or conventional relations. 

Thirdly; There are relations, which do not result 
from the constitution of nature, but are the consequence 
of the various obligations and duties in civil society ; and 
these, therefore, may be called ideas of constituted or 

CONVENTIONAL RELATIONS. 

Thus a general is one, who has the power to command 
an army, this power being delegated to him by virtue of 
certain provisions, entering originally into the terms of 
the civil compact. 

An army is a collection or body of armed men, who 
are under obligations, by the terms of such civil compact, 
to obey one man. 

A citizen or burgher is one, who has a right to the 
privileges of civil society in a certain place, that is to say, 
is the subject of some government, to the principles of 
whose organization he is supposed to have consented, and 
to have taken a part in it. 

These relations may be distinguished from the natural 
relations in the preceding section, by the circumstance, 
that they are not permanent, but are dependent upon the 
will or agreement of men, and may terminate before the 
subjects of them have ceased to exist. 

• The general may cease to act in that capacity, since 
the government, who gave him his authority, may take it 
away again. The army may be disbanded, and the bonds 
of civil society may be broken loose, and its members go 



IDEAS OF RELATION. 91 

back again into the unrestricted freedom of the state of 
nature. 

It is not thus in natural relations. The father is a fath- 
er, so long as the son lives, the son sustains the filial re- 
lation so long as the existence of the father, and, in ail 
cases of this description, the relations do not terminate, 
until one of the correlated persons is no more. 

$. 89. Plate is an idea of relation. 

We cannot conceive of any body having place or posi- 
tion, without comparing it with some other bodies. If, 
therefore, having two bodies fixed, or which maintain the 
same relative position, we can compare a third body with 
them, the third body can then be said to have place or po- 
sition. 

This may be illustrated by the chess-men, placed on the 
chess-board. We say, the men are in the same place, al- 
though the board may have been removed from one room 
to another. We use this language, because we consider 
the men only in relation to each other and the parts of 
the board, and not in relation to the rooms or parts of the 
room. 

Hence we may clearly have an idea of the place or po- 
sition of all the different parts of the universe, considered 
separately, because they may be compared with other 
parts. 

But we are unable to form any idea of the place or 
position o& the universe considered, as a whole, because 
we have then no other body, with which we can compare it. 

§. 89. Chronological dates involve ideas of relation. 

The independence of the North American colonies was 
declared, July 4th, 1776. 

These expressions may be thus explained. 

We assume the present year, 1826, as a given period 
and reckon back to the year, one, which coincides with the 
birth of our Saviour ; then the year, 1776, expresses the 



92 IDEA3 OF RELATION. 

distance between these two extremes, viz. one, and eighteen 
hundred, twenty six. This seems to be all we learn, when 
we say, the Independence of the United States was declar- 
ed at the period mentioned. 

We mean the same thing, and convey the same idea, 
whether we say that the Saviour was born in the year, one, 
of the Christian era, or, in the year, 4004, from the creation 
of the world. But, in the first case, the year, 4004, ex- 
presses the distance between these two extremes, viz. the 
beginning of the world, and the present time ; while, in 
the second instance, the event itself forms the beginning 
of the series. 

So that all dates appear to be properly classed under 
ideas of relation. 

§. 90. Cause and effect ideas of relation. 

Cause and effect, which are nothing more than regu- 
lar antecedents and consequents, as already repeatedly re- 
marked, belong here. They certainly have a relation to 
each other, for we cannot conceive of a cause, if we ex- 
clude from the list of our ideas the correlative notion of 
effect, nor, on the other hand, do we call any thing an ef- 
fect without a reference to some antecedent. 

It would seem from an examination of the process of 
the mind, in regard to these ideas, that we derive our no- 
tion of effect from an observation of the changes, which 
take place in bodies around us. When any change has 
happened, we necessarily feel, as if something had been 
done, and we term it an effect, having a mental reference 
to something antecedent, as before mentioned. So that 
we have the idea of effect, in the first instance, by means 
of the senses ; and as we cannot have an idea of cause 
without its correlative, we may look upon this idea also as 
capable of being traced to the same source ; and both of 
them, when we notice their mutual dependence and con- 
nection, are to be considered as most naturally coming un^ 
der the general class of relations. 



IDEAS OF RELATION 



93 



§. 91. Modes, substances, and relations resolvable into 
simple ideas. 

All our complex ideas, whether modes, substances, or 
relations, may be traced back and resolved int© simple 
ideas, although it may not be very obvious, in some instan- 
ces, how this is to be done, or when we have arrived at the 
end of the analysis. 

It seems in general to be more easy to ascertain what 
are the simple ideas, which enter into the formation of the 
two first classes, than of the third. But nothing, it must 
be confessed, is so much wanting as the patience necessary 
to go into a careful examination of our thoughts, in order 
to a successful result even in this last class. 

When ,we say, that honey is sweeter than bread, or 
that iron is harder than wax, the words, sweeter and hard- 
er express relations or relative ideas, but being analyzed, 
so far as we are able to, they clearly terminate in the sim- 
ple ideas of sweetness and hardness. 

When we say of any individual, whom we happen to 
see, that he is our friend or our enemy, words, which not 
only express relations, but are correlative to each other, 
what do we mean to say or imply in the use of such ex- 
pressions, but this ; viz. 

(1) That he is a man, (2) That -he. exercises love or ha- 
tred, (3) That we are the subjects of it. And having 
made this general analysis of the terms, we are then to 
consider what the complex notion, expressed by the word, 
man, is made up of, to inquire also where the idea of love 
or of hatred is to be classed, and what is its origin, &c. 
And thus we shall in the end arrive at those ideas, which 
are termed simple. 

At present no further remarks remain to be made by us 
on the subject of the origin of our ideas. As this Treatise 
is designed for beginners in the science, to be more par- 
ticular might tend rather to discourage, than to lead them 
on in the path of knowledge ; and yet, we trust, such a 
view of it has been taken, as will not only be deemed in 
general correct, but sufficiently extensive to satisfy a mod- 
erate curiosity. 



94 IDEAS OF RELATION. 

We finish this chapter with a few practical remarks on 
furnishing our minds with ideas. 

It was observed in the seventy ninth section, that a few 
real ideas are of more consequence than many chimerical 
ones, and let it to be admitted to be a just remark. But 
of such ideas, as are real, as are consistent, as are distinct, 
and ready at command, there cannot be too many, any 
more than a man can have an excess of truth or an exuber- 
ance of moral virtue. 

§, 92. The mind should be furnished with a store of 

ideas. 

As early as possible should 'the mind be furnished with 
a rich variety of thoughts. Although it be proper and 
oftentimes necessary, that persons should direct their atten- 
tion more to some particular subject than others, yet he 
Cannot be considered as possessed of a good education* 
who is not in some degree acquainted with many sub- 
jects, 

Our acquisitions are not to be limited to the affairs of 
our own country, but we are to become acquainted with 
the history of other nations also ; and while there is much 
to be learnt, that is modern, the records of antiquity are 
not to be neglected. We are to learn things both of a 
political and a religious kind, those, which have relation to 
the mechanick arts, the laws of nature, the intercourse of 
life, the principles of the mind, and on a variety of other 
subjects. 

Some of the benefits of possessing a large fund of 
ideas, which are the elements or materials of our knowl- 
edge, are these. 

(1) It enables us to take a wide, and, therefore, in gen- 
eral a more accurate view of subjects. 

In regard to every science there are some things true 
and some things false, and we are constantly liable to er- 
rour ; it may, therefore, well be expected, that he, who has 
a large store of ideas in that science, which he can exam- 
ine and compare together, stands so much the better 



IDEAS OF RELATION. 95 

chance of having his sentiments well balanced and cor* 
rect. 

A person, designing to pursue the study of law or of 
theology, may be of the opinion, that a knowledge of 
chymistry, of natural philosophy, or of the physiology of 
the human sytem, may be of no advantage to him, as a 
lawyer, theologian, &c., but there are many things, it may 
be replied, even if we admit the propriety of this opinion, 
the knowledge of which may not be so particularly ben- 
eficial in one's chosen pursuit, but of which, neverthe- 
less, it would be highly discreditable to be ignorant. 

Moreover, a lawyer, who is quite familiar with the prin- 
ciples of his particular department, may sometimes find 
himself a little perplexed, even when debating in a court 
of justice, in consequence of his ignorance of the chymic- 
al art, and a judge has been known to be confused, in ma- 
king up a decision on a case of suspected murder, for want 
of a more intimate acquaintance with the philosophy of 
our animal organization. 

(2) There is a second advantage, resulting from this 
enlarged and general acquaintance with things, viz. It will 
help, on the one hand, to preserve us from an excess of cre- 
dulity or too readily believing every thing, which is propos- 
ed to us for our assent, and, on the other, will be likely 
to guard us from a positive and, dogmatical turn of mind. 

There are many things, which at first sight appeared 
strange and incredible, but were afterwards found by us to 
be true. The more extensive the range of our ideas, the 
more shall we have found of instances of this sort. Hence 
when any thing is stated, however strange it may at first 
appear, we shall not be disposed to affirm or deny in re- 
spect to it with dogmatism, but to inquire farther. 

The more we know also in general, the more we shall, 
consequently, know, in particular, of intentional deceptions, 
and of the various unavoidable causes of mistake, and shall 
thus be strengthened against the indulgence of an extreme 
credulity. 

These are advantages, which are not to be lightly pri- 
sed, and are a sufficient reason, why we should early at- 



95 IDEAS OF RELATION. 

tempt to furnish ourselves with many ideas on a variety of 
subjects, by our personal observation of what things take 
place around us, by reading judicious books, and by con- 
versation. 

One fruitful source of ideas is conversation. We may 
learn something even in conversing with those persons, 
who have not had the advantages of a liberal education, 
and whose time is perhaps chiefly taken up in the exercise 
of some mechanick art, or in manual labour in the cultiva- 
tion of the soil. 

It is to be remarked further, that we are not to despise 
the conversation of those, who are of slow utterance, and 
whose conversation is thought to be rather uninteresting. 
It is a remark of Dean Swift, which has some philosophy 
in it, that the common fluency of speech in many persons 
is owing to a scarcity of words and ideas. For whoever, as 
he reasons on the subject, is master of language and has a 
mind full of ideas, will be apt, in speaking, to hesitate upon 
the choice of both. Whereas common speakers have only 
one set of ideas and one set of words to clothe them in, and 
these are always "ready. It is something like people com- 
ing fast out of a church, when it is nearly empty, but slow 
when there is a large crowd. 

Note. In passing from the origin of our ideas to the 
subject treated of in the next chapter, we have only to say, 
that we follow an order in the discussion, which naturally 
suggests itself. We do not mean to assert, that the ar- 
rangement will appear perfectly natural to every one at 
first sight, although it will be likely to, on a little examin- 
ation. 

Having spoken of the origin of our ideas, which are 
the materials, about which the mind employs itself, it sure- 
ly comes in course to examine those states of mind, where 
there is supposed to be a real perception of external ob- 
jects, but is not ; and whjch, therefore, are a species of 
false or illusive ideas, not resulting from the natural ope- 
rations of the intellect, and not furnishing grounds of 
knowledge. 



97 



CHAPTER NINTH, 



OT APPARITIONS. 



$. 93. What we are to understand by apparitions, 

Angels have appeared on earth. The Almighty has 
permitted it, as one means of forwarding the Scripture rev- 
elation, so necessary to mankind ; also other preternatural 
appearances in connection with the same great object. 

It is hardly necessary to mention, among other instan- 
ces, the appearance of the angel to Manoah and his wife, 
the sudden arrival of one of the same class of beings to re- 
lease Peter from prison, and the circumstances of the 
Transfiguration. 

As the canon of Scripture has long been closed, and 
the days of miracles are over, it does not rightly fall to us 
to consider the cases, to which we have alluded, and, fur- 
ther, they do not properly come under the head of appari- 
tions, since they were not merely imagined appearances, 
but real. 

Apparitions are appearances, which seem to be real ? 
but which exist only in the imagination. 

There may be apparitions, then, of departed spirits, of 
angels, of celestial cities, of landscapes, of mountains and 
precipices, of festivals, triumphs, funeral processions, tem- 
ples. There may be apparitions of all things, which exist, 
and of some things which do not exist. 

We may imagine, that we see sue'; things, as have 
been mentioned, and others, and firmly believe, that they 
are before us, or that we are in the midst of them, and all 
of it be merely a mental deception. 

$. 94. Of the connection between the mind and body. 

All apparitions, it may be said with safety, are owing 
13 



98 OF APPARITIONS. 

either to a permanently disordered state of the mind, or to 
some unnatural, temporary excitement ; but mental disea- 
ses is a subject full of difficulty. Whether the immaterial 
principle have diseases of itself and peculiarly its own, in- 
dependently of its connection with the body, or whether 
all its disorders may be traced to that connection, is a 
point, on which, in the present, limited state of our knowl- 
edge on this subject, it would be presumption to offer any 
positive opinion. 

But whether all our intellectual derangements can be 
traced to the connection, existing between the mind and 
body, or not, it is very certain, that this is the case with 
very many of them. A few well known facts will help to 
illustrate the influence of the body over the mind. 

(1) Old age may be considered as a disease, and the 
effects on the mind go, step and step, with those on the 
body. The mental vigour in those, who are experiencing 
the decrepitudes of age, is in most cases evidently impaired. 
The intellectual is hardly less deaf and blind, and stands 
hardly less in need of crutches to support it, than the bod- 
ily system. 

(2) Violent, corporeal diseases in manhood, before any 
decays take place from age, often affect the powers of 
thouglit. Persons have been known after a violent fever 
or violent attacks of any other kind, to lose entirely the 
power of recollection ; a circumstance to be remarked up- 
on in the chapter on memory. 

(3) Many things of a stimulating nature, when taken 
into the system, do in some way violently affect the mind. 
This is in particular true of the nitrous oxide gas ; — when 
it is inhaled in a considerable quantity, the conceptions are 
more vivid, associated trains of thought are of increased 
rapidity, and emotions are excited, corresponding to the 
acuteness of sensations and the vividness of idea*. 

(4) In general, whenever the physical condition of 
the brain, which is a prominent organ in the process of 
perception, is affected, whether it be from a more than 
common fulness of the blood vessels, or from other causes, 



Of APPARITIONS. Q9 

the mind itself will be found to be affected also ; and often- 
times in a high degree. 

Facts of this description will help us, in some measure, " 
in the explanation of those states of the mind, which are 
called apparitions 5 but with whatever light may be deriv- 
ed from this source, the whole subject still remains in 
some obscurity and open to many further inquiries. 

§. 95. This subject illustrated from Shakespeare. 

The definition, which we give of apparitions, is, that 
they are appearances, which seem to be real, but which ex- 
ist only in the imagination. But how does it happen, that 
they are merely imaginary, when they hate so much the 
appearance of reality 4 ? The answer is, that they are 
ideas or conceptions, in no ways differing from ordinary 
conceptions but this, that they are more vivid ; and it is in 
consequence of being so much more vivid than common, 
that the conceptions are mistaken for the thing conceived 
of, a state of the mind, which is brought about on the prin- 
ciples of association, for the real object, which was origin- 
ally the cause of that state of mind. The conception of 
the man, of the mountain, the temple, or the procession, is 
so intense, so extremely vivid, that we as firmly believe 
them to be really in our view, as when at some former pe- 
riod we truly beheld them. 

In many cases, this great intensity and vividness of 
conceptions may be traced to some affection of the bodily 
system, as has already been intimated ; when, for instance, 
a person has inhaled a quantity of nitrous oxide gas, when 
there is a general strong excitement of the nervous system, 
or when it so happens, that the blood vessels of the brain 
are overcharged. There are, however, some instances of 
apparitions, which baffle the efforts of any solution of this 
sort. 

Few persons have exhibited a more intimate acquaint- 
ance with the principles of the mental constitution, than 
Shakespeare. He was not ignorant of the fact, that the 
human mind, under certain circumstances, is in such a po- 



100 OF APPARITIONS. 

sition, that imaginary appearances impress it as strongly, 
and seem to be as truly and really before it, as any objects 
whatever, which are actually beheld by us. 

Thus, when Macbeth is preparing to slay Duncan, he 
beholds the apparition of a dagger. 

" Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 

" The handle towards my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee, 

'" I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

It was not true, that Macbeth saw any thing, although, 
if he had clutched the dagger in his hand, he would not 
have believed more firmly in its existence and presence, 
than he did. 

From this tragedy and also from others, we have evi- 
dence of what has been stated, 

(1) That Shakespeare believed and knew, that there 
are apparitions or mental conceptions so vivid, as to be 
mistaken for realities; 

(2) And also that he considered apparitions to be 
owing to a disordered state of the mind, whatever might 
be the cause c,f that mental derangement, whether bodily 
or in the mind itself. 

In the present instance, he seems to me obscurely to 
intimate an opinion, that the apparition was to be ascri- 
bed to an inordinate determination of the blood to the 
brain ; 

• '• A dagger of the mind, a false creation 
''Proceeding frorn the heat-oppressed brain, 

§. 96. Jlppearance of Caesar's ghost to Brutus. 

Before the last battle on the plains of Philippi, a spec- 
tre somewhat larger, but not less distinct than the life, ap- 
peared to Marcus Junius Brutus ;— the same spectre is said 
to have appeared to him once before. This incident, 
which is related by the early biographers of the patriotick 
Roman, is more recently taken notice of by Shakespeare 
also, in the play of Julius Caesar ; he takes the liberty 
of a poet, however, in placing it before the death of Cas- 
sius. 



OF APPARITIONS. 101 

Brutus is represented, as sitting in his tent late at night, 
and the only one awake. He is just taking up a book to 
read, when Caesar's unwelcome spirit enters. 

" How ill this taper burns ! Ha ! Who comes here ? 

" I think it is the weakness of mine eyes, 

" That shapes this monstrous apparition. 

" It comes upon me ; — Art thou any thing ? 

" Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil ? 

The English dramatist well knew, whether the historic- 
al account of the incident were true or false, there was 
nothing impossible and perhaps not improbable in the cir- 
cumstance, that Brutus should have been under the in- 
fluence of that mental delusion, which is termed appari- 
tion ; ^nd have thus been led firmly to believe in the pres- 
ence of the spectre. 

In explanation of the spectre, which appeared to, Bru- 
tus, there is to be considered, 

(1) His bodily fatigue. Oppressed as he was with the 
principal cares of the army, we may well suppose, that his 
bodily system was in a measure worn down, and in such an 
unsettled and feverish state, as to detract not inconsid- 
erably from the due and consistent exercise of the intel- 
lectual faculties. 

(2) It is only a natural supposition also, that he was in 
great mental excitement, independent of any intellec 
derangement arising from his great fatigue; fores6ein| the 
misery, which would come upon himself, if he were defeat 
ed, on his family, and the whole Roman people and 
membering, in particular, that he had plunged the ? : 
into the bosom of his friend for freedom, and that the free- 
dom, which he had thus sought, was likely to be losi 

Thus there was combined, with an over-wears ed 
feverish condition of the bodily system and the natural 
fects on the mind arising from this source, a strong arid fe 
ful mental agitation from other causes ; and then it is to 
be remembered also ; 

(3) That, in the instance of which we are now speak- 
ing, it was the night before the battle, it was in its depth o^ 
stillness and darkness, and his lamp was burning dimly be- 
side him. 



102 OF APPARITIONS. 

These circumstances, although we do not pretend to 
Offer them as a full solution, justify us in the opinion, not 
that he had a dream, which some have supposed, but that 
his waking conception of the dead Caesar was so vivid, as 
to lead him to mistake the image for the reality. 

It will be deemed pardonable, if I pass from this in- 
stance of antiquity, briefly to comment on a remark, which 
is to be found in one of those interesting little narratives, 
which detail the sufferings of the early settlers in our coun- 
try when taken captive in the Indian wars, I allude to the 
narrative of the captivity of a Mrs. Howe and her seven chiU 
dren, who in 1775 were taken prisoners at Hinsdale in New 
Hampshire by a party of the St. Francois Indians. Once 
coming into the company of a lumber of savages, after 
having been absent from them some little time, she saw 
them smile at each other, and asked what was the matter ? 
They replied, two of her children were no more, one hav- 
ing died a natural death, and the other being knocked on 
the head. " I did not utter many words, (says the mother,) 
but my heart was sorely pained within me, and my mind 
exceedingly troubled with strange and awful ideas. I often 
imagined for instance, that I plainly saw the naked carcases 
of my enildren hanging upon the limbs of trees, as the In- 
dians are wont to hang the raw hides of those beasts, which 
they take in hunting," &^c. 

It needs but a little reflection to assure one, that these 
conceptions or ideas were of that intensely vivid kind, 
which are here denominated apparitions, the mind being 
thrown into an unnatural and feverish posture by the great 
degree of mental and bodily suffering. 

Note. The remarks in relation to Caesar's spectre 
may be applied also in explanation of the appearance of 
Banquo's ghost in the tragedy of Macbeth. 

§. 96. Confessions of an English opium-eater* 

There is a book entitled confessions of an English 
unuM-EATER ; not without merit in point of style, but 
chiefly valuable for affording some facts in respect to the 



OP APPARITIONS. 103 

I 

mind. This person seems to have been naturally of a feel- 
ing and imaginative turn, and this intellectual vivacity was 
greatly increased by an inordinate use of opium ; so that 
in the end his intellect was thrown into an unnatural and 
disorderly posture. In the middle of eighteen hundred and 
seventeen, the faculty of forming apparitions, that is, as 
the terms are to be understood in his case, the power of 
painting all sorts of phantoms on the darkness, became so 
frequent and eifective, as to be positively distressing to him. 
At night when he lay awake in bed, vast processions pass- 
ed along in mournful pomp ; friezes of never-ending sto- 
ries, that to his feelings were sad and solemn, he informs 
us, as if they were stories drawn from times before Oedi- 
pus or Priam, before Tyre, before Memphis. Whenever 
the night shades had fallen, what®ver he happened to think 
upon, whether it were landscapes, or palaces, or armies in 
battle array, in a word, whatever was a subject of thought, 
and was capable of being visually represented, formed 
themselves into phantoms of the eye and swept before him 
in order and in distinctness, no less marked and imposing, 
than if the real objects themselves had been present. 

This was a state of mind, without doubt, in many re- 
spects, similar to that which framed the spectre of Caesar, 
the imaginary sword of Macbeth, and suspended before the 
bewildered sight of the American captive the bodies of 
her lifeless children. 

$. 97. Of temporary mental excitewxnts. 

Very much resembling the states of mind, which have 
been mentioned, and differing in degree rather thai* in any 
other respect, are certain temporary mental excitements, 
to which literary men, especially those of a vived and pow- 
erful genius, have been too much subject. 

The late lamented Professor Fisher of New-Haven has 
made a statement on this point, drawn from his own ex- 
perience, as follows ; 

"To whatever subject I happened to direct my thoughts. 



104 OF APPARITIONS'. 

my mind was crowded with ideas upon it. I seemed to 
myself able to wield the most difficult subjects with perfect 
ease, and to have an entire command over my own train 
of thought. I found myself wonderfully inventive ; scarce 
a subject presented itself, in which I did not seem to my- 
self to perceive, as it were by intuition, important improve- 
ments. I slept but a part of the night, my mind being in- 
tensely occupied with planning, inventing, &c. All the 
writing that I did was done in the utmost hurry. Ideas 
crowded upon me five times as fast as I could put down 
even hints of them, and my sole object was to have some 
memorial by which they might be recalled. I was em- 
ployed the whole time in the most intense meditation ; at 
the same time, thinking never seemed to me to be attend- 
ed with so little effort. I did not experience the least 
confusion or fatigue of mind. My thoughts flowed with a 
rapidity that was prodigious, and the faculties of associa- 
tion, memory, &c. were wonderfully raised. 1 could read 
different languages into English, and English into Hebrew, 
with a fluency which I was never before or since master 
of. During the whole time, though I was in a low state 
of health, I never felt the least pain or fatigue of body." 

Instances of this sort are not unfrequent, but we 
have selected from many others, that which has been given, 
as coming from a source entitled to more than ordinary 
credit. 

On these temporary mental excitements the following 
remarks are suggested ; 

(1) They are not the action of a healthy and well-bal- 
anced state of mind, but are rather indicative that it is dis- 
eased, and happen in consequence of such disease. They 
are sometimes accounted moments of inspiration, but it 
would be happier for the subject of them, if he were led 
to regard them, as seasons of intellectual malady. 

(2) They are generally followed by a depression, which 
corresponds to the more than ordinary, previous excite- 
ment. That energy of conception and strength of com- 
bination, which a little while before were perhaps recog- 



OF APPARITIONS* lGfc 

hised with emotions of pride, 'are followed by extreme 
prostration and inertness ; — so that, if it could be proved, 
that the previous state of the mind were not a diseased 
one, no benefit could justly be considered, as having re- 
Suited from its occurrence. 

It is of great practical consequence to many, especially 
to persons of studious habits, to pay attention to these re- 
marks. If they find themselves the subjects of such men- 
tal excitements, as have been described, they will be led 
to regard them, if they consider these views well founded, 
as the indications of mental disease. They should, there- 
fore, seek some remedy. The influence of the body over 
the mind, as already seen, is very great, and the unnatural 
exercises of the mind may, in this very instance, be traced 
to the connection, existing between them. If this should 
be found to be true, the first thing to be attended to, would 
be a restoration of the physical system. 

It may be briefly remarked in this connection, that, in 
general, a healthy and vigorous state of the body is neces- 
sary to a healthy and vigorous mental action. 

§. 98. State of the mind in drowning. 

It has been remarked, in a number of instances, by per- 
sons, who have been on the point of drowning, but have 
been rescued from that situation and have survived, that 
the operations of their minds were peculiarly quickened. 
There was such wonderful activity of the mental principle, 
that the whole past life, with its thousand, minute incidents, 
has simultaneously passed before them, and been viewed, 
as in a mirror. Scenes, and situations, long gone by, and 
associates, not seen for years and perhaps buried, came 
rushing in upon the field of intellectual vision, in all the 
activity and distinctness of real existence. 

In a moment of time, when the soul was on the point 
of starting away from the body forever, millions of actions, 
millions of thoughts, uncounted multitudes of feelings 
have, in this way, appeared to pass in review. 

In how many instances, compared with the whole nura- 
14 



100 OF APPARITIONS. 

ber of persons rescued from the waters, when on the point 
of yielding up their life, this peculiar state of mind may 
have existed, it is not in our power to say ; — that it has 
existed in some cases of this sort there is no doubt. 

Here, then, is an instance of greatly increased mental 
action, in some respects analagous, undoubtedly, to other 
instances, brought up in this chapter, but of which our in- 
formation is as yet too limited and conjectural, to furnish a 
satisfactory solution. 

A remark may be made here in reference to the final 
judgment. The doctrine of the Scriptures on that most 
interesting subject, is, that we shall be judged, and the ret- 
ribution will be awarded according to the deeds done in 
the body, whether good or evil. But it is difficult for us 
to harbour the belief, that God will pass judgment on his 
creatures, and they not be enabled clearly to understand 
the rectitude of his decisions. And still less easy is it for 
us to conceive, how there can thus be a conviction of his 
rectitude without a distinct recollection of the actions of 
the past life. 

The fact, which has now been mentioned, and others, 
which are related in different parts of this chapter, do 
not permit us to doubt, that it is in the power of our 
Creator to quicker our mental capabilities, without the 
laws, which ordinarily govern them, being, in the least, 
altered from their present state, so that the numberless 
multitude, assembled at the judgment seat, shall, in a sin- 
gle instant, view the perfect panorama of their past life, 
in all the variety and in all the minuteness of its circum- 
stances. 

This remark is worthy the consideration of those, who 
object to a general judgment on the ground, that the ac- 
tions of the past life cannot possibly be recalled, in all 
their extent, to the person, who has committed them. 

$. 99. Of the apparitions ofJVicolai. 

Nicolai was an inhabitant of Berlin, a celebrated book- 
seller, of a naturally very vivid imagination. He was nei- 
ther ignorant nor superstitious ; a fact, which some un- 



©F APPARITIONS. 107 

doubtedly will esteem it important to know. The follow- 
ing account of the apparitions, which appeared to him, is 
given in his own words. 

"My wife and another person came into my apartment 
in the morning, in order to console me, but I was too much 
agitated by a series of incidents, which had most powerful- 
ly affected my moral feeling, to be capable of attending to 
them. On a sudden, I perceived, at about the distance of 
ten steps, a form like that of a deceased person. I point- 
ed at it, asking my wife if she did not see it? It was but 
natural that she should not see any thing ; my question, 
therefore, alarmed her very much, and she immediately 
sent for a physician. The phantom continued about eight 
minutes. I grew at length more calm, and being extreme- 
ly exhausted, fell into a restless sleep, which lasted about 
half an hour. The physician ascribed the apparition to a 
violent mental emotion, and hoped there would be no re- 
turn ; but the violent agitation of my mind had in some 
way disordered my nerves, and produced further conse- 
quences which deserve a more minute description. 

" At four in the afternoon, the form which I had seen 
in the morning re-appeared. I was by myself when this 
happened, and being rather uneasy at the incident, went 
to my wife's apartment, but there likewise I was persecut- 
ed by the apparition, which, however, at intervals disap- 
peared, and always presented itself in a standing posture. 
About six o'clock there appeared also several walking fig- 
ures, which had no connection with the first. After the 
first day the form of the deceased person no more appear- 
ed, but its place was supplied with many other phantasms, 
sometimes representing acquaintances, but mostly stran- 
gers ; those whom I knew were composed of living and de- 
ceased persons, but the number of the latter was compara- 
tively small. I observed the persons with whom I daily 
conversed did not appear as phantasms, these representing 
chiefly persons who lived at some distance from me. 

" These phantasms seemed equally clear and distinct at 
all times, and under all circumstances, both when I was by 
myself, and when I was in company, and as well in the day as 



108 ©F APPARITIONS. 

at night, and in my own house as well as abroad ; they were, 
however, less frequent when I was in the house of a friend, 
and rarely appeared to me in the street. When I shut my 
eyes, these phantasms would sometimes vanish entirely, 
though there were instances when 1 beheld them with my 
eyes closed, yet, when they disappeared on such occasions, 
they generally returned when I opened my eyes. I con- 
versed sometimes with my physician and my wife of tho 
phantasms which at the moment surrounded me ; they ap- 
peared more frequently walking than at rest, nor were they 
constantly present. They frequently did not come for 
some time, but always re-appeared for a longer or shorter 
period, either singly or in company, the latter, however, 
being most frequently the case. I generally saw human 
forms of both sexes, but they usually seemed not to take 
the smallest notice of each other, moving as in a market- 
place, where all are eager to press through the crowd ; at 
times, however, they seemed to be transacting business 
with each other. I also saw several times people on horse- 
back, dogs and birds. All these phantasms appeared to 
me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibit- 
ing different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as 
well as different colours and fashions in their dresses, 
though the colours seemed somewhat paler than in real 
nature. None of the figures appeared particularly terri- 
ble, comical, or disgusting, most of them being of an indif- 
ferent shape, and some presenting a pleasing aspect. The 
longer these phantoms continued to visit me, the more fre- 
quently did they return, while, at the same time, they in- 
creased in number about four weeks after they had first ap- 
peared. I also began to hear them talk ; these phantoms 
sometimes conversed among themselves, but more fre- 
quently addressed their discourse to me ; their speeches 
were commonly short, and never of an unpleasant turn. 
At different times there appeared to me both dear and sen- 
sible friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to ap- 
pease my grief, which had not yet wholly subsided : their 
consolatory speeches were in general addressed to me 
v hen I was alone. Sometimes, however, I was accosted 



OF APPARITIONS. . 109 

by these consoling friends while I was engaged in compa- 
ny, and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking 
to me. These consolatory addresses consisted sometimes 
of abrupt phrases, and at other times they were regularly 
executed." 

As Nicolai was a person of information and of a phi- 
losophick spirit, he was able to detect and to assign the 
true cause of his mental malady. 

He was, it is to be remembered, in the first place, a 
person of a very vivid fancy, and, hence, his mind was the 
more likely to be affected by any disease of the body. A 
number of years before the occurrences above related, he 
had been subject to a violent vertigo, which had been 
cured by means of leeches ; it was his custom to lose blood 
twice a year, but previously to the present attack, this 
evacuation had been neglected. Supposing, therefore, 
that the mental disorder might arise from an irregularity 
in the circulation of the blood, he again resorted to the ap- 
plication of leeches. 

When the leeches were applied, no person was with 
him besides the surgeon; but during the operation his 
chamber was crowded with human phantasms of all des- 
criptions. In the course of a few hours, however, they 
moved around the chamber more slowly ; their colour be- 
gan to fade, until growing more and more obscure, they at 
last dissolved into air, and he ceased to be troubled with 
them afterwards. 

§. 100. Instance similar to the preceding. 

There is an instance, very similar to that of Nicolai, in 
the sixth volume of the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical 
Journal ; particulars, however, it is unnecessary minuteljr 
to repeat. 

A shopkeeper of Edinburgh was haunted with appari- 
tions, appearing not only at night, but in the day time ; so 
much so that, at one time, he was unable to tell which 
were his real customers, and which were phantoms of the 
imagination. 

The vfsionary beings, that appeared to him to enter 



110 OF APPJLRITIOlfS. 

and leave his shop, were as distinctly marked, were appar- 
ently as full of life and intelligence, as the persons, who 
were really present. 

The complaint in this instance was cured by medical 
prescriptions, in particular, as in the case of the Ber- 
lin bookseller, by letting of blood by means of leeches. 

For other instances the reader is referred to a popular 
work recently published, entitled, 

" Sketches of the Philosophy of Apparitions ; or, an 
Attempt to trace such Illusions to their Physical Causes by 
Samuel Hibbert, M. D." 

The author treats of spectral illusions, resulting from 
Iiighiy excited states of particular temperament, from a gen- 
eral nervous irritability of the system, from hystericks, 
from neglect of accustomed, periodical blood-letting, from 
febrile and inflammatory affections, hypochondriasis, &c. 
It is sufficiently clear from this work, that, in many ca- 
ses of apparitions, the cause is undoubtedly to be sought, 
as in the instances, which have been last mentioned, in 
the disordered condition of the bodily system ; the conse- 
quence of which is a disordered state of the mind. 

§~ 101. Of the second sight of the Scotch Highlanders, 

Much has been said, although more formerly than in 
latter days, of the second sight of the Highlanders in 
Scotland ; a faculty, called, in the Erse language, Taisch ; — 
and if it be considered a subject at all worthy of attention, 
it is proper to remark upon it, in connection with the ideas 
brought up in this chapter. 

Second sight is the power of visually beholding ob- 
jects, which are not present, and which, therefore, are not 
naturally and in the ordinary way, objects of vision. 

Take the following illustrations. A man on his jour- 
ney, and far from home, is thrown from his horse ; a per- 
son, who is his neighbour, but has the power of second 
«* ght, sees him bleeding on the ground, although at the 
distance of a considerable number of miles, and, it may be. 



OF APPARITIONS. ill 

not without a perception, more or less vivid, of the out- 
lines of the place, where the accident happened. Again; 
a person, having this power, may be expected at some fit 
time to see a funeral procession, with such attendant cir- 
cumstances, as are judged to point out some individual la 
the neighbourhood, whose lot it will be soon to leave the 
world. 

Perceptions of this sort are not limited to any particu- 
lar objects, but all things existing and all states of action 
and suffering may be thus seen, and such consequences arc 
deduced and predicted, as the circumstances of the partic- 
ular case seem to warrant. 

There was a treatise on this subject, published in the 
year 1762, in which many incidents were related of per- 
sons, whom the writer believed to have possessed this ex- 
traordinary power, but the incautious credulity, which he 
manifested, was such, as to prevent implicit confidence be- 
ing placed in his details. 

After looking at the subject with the aid of such state- 
ments as have reached these regions so remote from the 
soil, where this power is supposed to have been peculiarly 
exercised, this seems to be a reasonable result, viz. 

That the Highlanders of Scotland possessed, and un- 
doubtedly do still possess, the second sight, which is more 
or less prevalent in all countries, and nothing more ; — viz. 
that of apparitions, or, in other words, of conceptions, ren~ 
dered so vivid by circumstances, either mental, physic- 
al, or a combination of both, as to appear realities. 

There may be reason, however, for supposing, that ap- 
paritions were more frequent among them, than is commoa 
elsewhere, but we are able to allude, and that briefly, only 
to one of the circumstances, which are considered as justi- 
fying the supposition. 

It has been remarked with truth, that the high-lands of 
Scotland are a picturesque, but a melancholy country. 
The narrow vallies are but thinly inhabited ; they resound 
with waterfalls and are overhung with precipices ; and fur- 
ther upward are mountainous deserts, covered with the 
brown heath and dark with mists. 



113 OF APPAMTlbNS; 

People, inhabiting such a land, will be likely to have 
strong and lofty feelings, apparently partaking of the wild- 
ness and darkness of their situation. If they are ignorant 
they can hardly fail to be superstitious, as strength of feel- 
ing, when not guided by information, has been found very 
generally to incline that way ; — and if they are too* well 
informed for superstition, they will discover an inclination 
to melancholy, superinduced, as One may say, by the gloomy, 
but exalting sublimity of those works of nature, which 
constantly surround them. 

Their conceptions, therefore, will be extremely vivid ; 
and it will excite no wonder, if a larger number of persons, 
than is common in less romantick countries, should be 
found, whose conceptions are so strongly aroused, as to be- 
come APPARITIONS i 

§. 102. Of ghosts and other spectral appearances* 

Ghosts are partly apparitions, taking that term, as it 
has been illustrated, and in part mental illusions, arising 
from not viewing objects aright. In respect to ghosts, 
remark, 

(1) That they are seen most frequently in the dark, 
hardly any one pretending to have seen them in the day 
time. And this is a circumstance altogether in favour of 
the idea, that they are in all cases, although they cannot 
all be referred to one cause, deceptions practised on the 
imagination. In the dark, as we are exposed to a greater 
tariety of dangers than at other times, our feelings are in 
consequence excited in a greater or less degree, and, a* 
there is a great dimness in the outlines of objects, they 
readily assume, when viewed by the mind under such cir- 
cumstances, new and various shapes. 

Let it be observed, as another circumstance attending 
these spectral appearances, 

(2) That ghosts are seen most frequently among people 
of very little mental cultivation, among the ignorant. Un T 
instructed minds are generally the most credulous. If 
there were truly any beings in nature of this sort, and they 



OF APPARITIONS. 113 

Were any thing more than imaginary appearances, persons 
who were well-informed and philosophick, would stand a 
chance, equally good with others, of forming an acquaint- 
ance with them. 

From these two circumstances it seems to follow clear- 
ly, that many of these imaginary beings are the creations 
of a credulous and excited mind, viewing objects at an 
hour, when their outlines cannot be distinctly seen. 

It is to be remarked further, 

(3) Ghosts, whenever they present themselves, are 
found to agree very nearly with certain previous concep- 
tions, which persons have formed in respect to them. If, 
for instance, the ghost be the spirit of one, with whom we 
have been particularly acquainted, he appears with the 
same lineaments, although a little paler, and the same dress 
even to the button on his coat ; the dress, in general, how- 
ever, is white, corresponding to the colour of the burial 
habiliments ; — so that they may be said to have a personal 
or individual, a generick, and, as some have maintained, a 
national character. 

" They commonly appear, (says Grose, who has written 
on this subject,) in the same dress, they wore while living ; 
though they are sometimes clothed all in white ; but that 
is chiefly the churchyard ghosts, who have no particular 
business, but seem to appear pro bono publico, or to scare 
drunken rusticks from tumbling over their graves. Drag- 
ging chains is not the fashion of English ghosts, chains 
and black vestments being chiefly the accoutrements of 
foreign spectres seen in arbitrary governments ; — Dead or 
alive, English spirits are free." 

This circumstance also remains to be considered ; 

(4) When spirits have come from the dead to the liv- 
ing, it has generally been found, that these visitants were 
among the particular friends, although sometimes of the 
enemies of those, whom they came „o see. This is very 
natural. 

It is our friends and enemies, whom we think most of; 
much more than of those, to whom we are unknown, and 
towards whom our feelings are indifferent. 
15 



114 OF APPARITIONS. 

A person has lost a very near friend by death ; his soul 
is distressed, and amid the joys of life, which have now 
lost their charms, and amid its cares, to which he turns 
with a broken heart, he incessantly recalls the image so 
endeared to him. What wonder then, that his imagina- 
tion, which, in the light and bustle of the day, was able to 
keep before itself the picture of the departed,, should, in 
the stillness and shades of midnight, when remembrances 
multiply and feelings grow deeper and deeper, increase 
that picture to the size and give to it the vivid form of real 
life ! 

These circumstances justify us in ascribing the ex- 
istence of that supposed class of beings, called ghosts, to 
the two causes, mentioned at the head of this section, viz. 
conceptions rendered inordinately intense, and objects, 
actually seen, but under such circumstances, as to be mis- 
represented. 

§.■ 103.- Of the apparitions of the religious. 

Individuals, under great religious excitement, frequent- 
ly make mention of having seen apparitions. One has be- 
held angels, ascending to heaven, or descending on the 
ladder of Jacob ; bright companies, singing the song of 
Moses and the Lamb ; and the river of the water of life, 
clear as chrystal. 

Another has seen the Saviour in the most trying mo- 
ments of the crucifixion ; and has no more doubt of having 
truly and visually beheld Him, than the disciple, Thomas, 
when he thrust his hand into his side. 

This subject, is one of a delicate nature, and on which 
we are greatly liable to be misunderstood. Knowing this, 
we shall decline either asserting or denying, that christians 
may see, and have seen angels, heaven opened, the Saviour, 
and the like ; since any thing we have in view, in the 
present section, does not require such assertion or denial. 

But this proposition may probably be laid down with- 
out exciting opposition from any quarter ; — That it is dan- 



OF APPARITIONS. 115 

gerous to rest one's hopes of a religious character on these 
visions. And without rudely setting at defiance the feel- 
ings and opinions, existing on this subject, we would in- 
quire, Whether they cannot very often, as in instances al- 
ready remarked upon, be traced to some disorder of the 
physical system 9 or, admitting, that the body is sound and 
under no special excitement, whether they may not be 
merely our own thoughts, strengthened by reflection, ren- 
dered intense by desire ? 

" Alas ! we listen to our own fond hopes, 

'* Even till they seem no more our fancy's children, 

" We put them on a prophet's robe, endow them 

"With prophet's voices, and then Heaven speaks in them, 

y And that, which we would have be, surely shall be." 

The salvation of the soul is too weighty a concern to 
•be risked on such an uncertain foundation ; especially as 
we have the Word of life, which points out the marks of a 
gracious state, yet without making mention of dreams, 
visions, or apparitions, as included among those marks. 

Note. In the London Quarterly of April, 1822, in an 
article on Nervous Affections, are some remarks on Eman- 
uel Swedenborg. Whether they be philosophical and 
just, or not, the reader can judge ; — they are, at least, 
written with more temper and candour, than some of the 
criticisms on the life and writings of the individual, who is 
the subject of them. 

" We have been looking over the life and writings of E- 
manuel Swedenborg, and the conclusion to which we come 
is this : — that if allowance is made, first, for a credulous 
and fanciful intellect, (there is among sane men an infinite 
variety in the susceptibility of belief,) and, secondly, for 
the use of allegorical instead of common language — if we 
had him alive, could catechise and cross-examine him 
about his statements, separate what was mere allegorical 
jargon, and what was mere matter of opinion, and get his 
actual experiences in plain language, much, if not all the 
mystery would vanish, without resorting to insanity for an 
explanation. In the present age, philosophers credit noth- 
ing but what they perceive by sense, receive on satisfac- 



116 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

tory evidence, or infer by strict reason ; all notions, sugges- 
ted by other impulses, they view with doubt or disbelief, 
Wieland, in his Agathodamon, conjectures, that in the inr 
fancy of the human race, men did, as children do now, 
confound their past dreams with real occurrences ; that 
when they had been dreaming of a dead friend, they would 
think that they had been with him, and that thus has aris- 
en the belief in ghosts. Berkeley was of opinion that the 
reality of things consisted not in their outward existence, 
but in being perceived. It is a common belief with reli- 
gious enthusiasts that strong inclination is divine impulse. 
Now if from natural facility of conviction, or from reli- 
gious hypothesis, Swendenborg believed that meditation 
carried to a certain intensity was reality, how easy for him 
to sit in his arm-chair, shoot his soul into Heaven ; wand- 
er through its streets and squares ; behold its lofty build- 
ings and splendid palaces, roofed with gold and floored 
with precious stones, converse with its inhabitants dressed 
in white, or shining, or flame coloured garments, and walk 
under trees with silver leaves, golden fruit, and rainbow 
flowers IV 



CHAPTER TENTH. 



origin or smw& or thought. 



§, 104. Our mental operations are to be made known. 

It seems to be clearly the intention of Providence, that 
there should be a communication of thoughts from one to 
another. Without such an ability of making our thoughts 
known, there would be but little force in the remark of one 
of the philosophick ancients, the truth of which is so gen- 
erally granted, that we are born not for ourselves alone, 
but that our friends and country have a share in us. 

There is, then, some way of reciprocal intercourse a- 
mong the souls of men ; hearts can meet each other in the 



ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 117 

salutations of friendship ; minds can grapple in the trial of 
their strength ; there are desires and aversions to be made 
known, hopes and fears, doubts and determinations, per- 
ceptions, imaginations, reasonings. 

Admitting the truth of this representation, the mode of 
communicating these things, as well as the various thoughts 
and feelings themselves, becomes an interesting subject 
of inquiry. It is interesting, because the signs of thought, 
whatever they may be, exercise a considerable influence 
over those mental operations, of which they are represen- 
tative, and also because it is of the utmost consequence to 
the well-being and prosperity of mankind, that there should 
be as much readiness and exactness as possible in those 
mental communications, which by means of signs are con- 
stantly taking place. 

In this chapter, however, we are to inquire particular- 
ly into signs of thought, where alphabetick characters and 
oral speech may be supposed to be unknown, to observe 
upon that way of making communications, which was ear- 
liest used and upon others, as they successively follow ; re- 
serving to the following chapter a variety of speculative 
and practical remarks on the use of words, which is the 
sign or representative of thought, with which, at the pres- 
ent day, we have most to do. 

§. 105. Thoughts first expressed by gestures and the 
countenance. 

Separate an individual in very early life from the rest 
of the human family, and let him grow up without any in- 
struction in the use of the organs of speech, and it will be 
found, that he will be entirely ignorant in what way to em- 
ploy them, except it be to utter a few inarticulate cries. 

The story of the wild girl, found near the French vil- 
lage of Songi in 1731, also of a boy, found in the forests 
of Lithuania in 1695,' who is particularly mentioned in Part 
First of Condillac's book on the Origin of Knowledge, and 
other instances similar, are a proof of what has been said. 

Whether God did, or did not, directly teach our first 



118 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

parents alphabetical, oral language, (a question, which ha* 
been long disputed,) it is certain, that, in these instances, 
we find persons, who could not avail themselves of that 
mode of communicating their ideas ; — the same is true of 
persons, who are born deaf and dumb, and have not been in- 
structed in any artificial method of making their thoughts 
known. Such persons, not being able to express their 
ideas by means of arbitrary signs, avail themselves, to the 
best of their power, of the language of nature. 

And now the question is, when they are thus limited, 
what is the means, which they first employ ? The answer, 
in reference to such an inquiry, is, that they make use of 
gestures and expressions of the countenance. 

The following illustrations may be given. 

The flushed countenance and the uplifted hand denote 
an emotion of rage within ; — a look, slightly illuminated 
with a smile, with none or but a small motion of the body, 
is an indication of satisfaction and peace. In dejection 
and melancholy, the head sinks, the arms depend ; while 
admiration and surprize elevate the arms, throw the body 
back, and fix it, seemingly immoveable, in one position. 

Two savages of different tribes accidentally meet to- 
gether, totally unacquainted with each other's language ; — 
they are hungry, or athirst, or wounded in battle, or from 
some other cause in suffering. By means of such ges- 
tures merely and such expressions of countenance, as have 
been mentioned, how many thoughts and feelings will 
they be able reciprocally to communicate. ! 

§. 106. Of the art of Pantomime among the Romans, 

In pantomime thoughts are exhibited by gesture and 
the countenance merely, without words. The Romans had 
three collections of gestures, one for tragedy, another for 
comedy, and a third for those satirical poems, which 
were thought to be suited for publick exhibitions. There 
were actors in pantomime, such as Pylades and Bathil- 
}us,who made it their whole business to address the people 



ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. Jl§ 

in this sort of dumb show, and they succeeded to a degree, 
which at the present day is quite astonishing. 

It was before systems of gestures were fully agreed up- 
on, as signs of thought, and pantomime had gotten to be an 
art, that the contest between Cicero and Roscius, which 
has been so often mentioned, took place. Cicero pronoun- 
ced a period, which he had composed ; Roscius followed 
and gave the meaning in action ; Cicero varied his expres- 
sions, and Roscius as readily varied his gestures. And 
whether Cicero with words could convey the meaning with 
more exactness and emphasis, than Roscius could without 
them, has been made a question. 

It may be more particularly noticed here, that gesture 
is the natural language of the deaf and dumb. It was re- 
marked by a person, that, in travelling in one of the Uni- 
ted States, he once stopped at a house, where were three 
sisters, all deaf and dumb ; two of them grown up, the 
other about six years of age. They had received no in- 
struction, but they were, nevertheless, able to express very 
many ideas, far more than one might at first suppose, by 
means of action or gesture. But it was not merely that 
limited degree of action, which the violence of feeling 
seems instinctively and naturally to prompt ; they had, in 
some way, agreed upon a numerous catalogue of signs of 
this sort, and employed them with remarkable expertness. 
They thus made out to converse with each other, and with 
those of their acquaintances, who had succeeded in learn- 
ing their vocabulary of action. 

Although the signs in this instance were in some mea- 
sure conventional, because reciprocally agreed upon, they 
did not hit upon them of themselves, but they were sug- 
gested by what they observed in the daily employments of 
their fellow beings. For instance, a motion of the arm, 
slightly declining from the horizontal, was their sign for 
a scythe and for mowing. A motion, similar to that of a 
person cutting wood, was their sign for an axe and for cut- 
ting. Their sign for a book was the laying of the palms 
of the hands together and then opening them, as one opens 
a book, &c. 



120 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

The earliest mode of expressing thoughts, then, wag 
by gesture or action, and by expressions of the counte- 
nance. 

§. 107. Thoughts expressed by symbolick actions. 

The next mode of expressing thoughts, resorted to by 
those, who have not arbitrary signs, is symbolick action. 
This seems to be only the language of gesticulation, car- 
ried to a greater extent ; and will, therefore, be most like- 
ly to be frequently employed among nations of little men- 
tal culture, and in oriental countries more frequently than 
in others, owing to the greater vivacity of the people. 
We, accordingly, find instances of this mode of -express- 
ing thought among all savage tribes, and those, who are 
familiar with the Bible, know, how very frequently it was 
employed among the Hebrews. 

As far as uncivilized nations are concerned, it is well 
known, that, when a citizen of this country or of the Can- 
adas makes a visit to an Indian tribe, with which his own 
people is not in a state of hostility, he is expected, and, in 
consequence of that expectation, deems it expedient, if not 
necessary, to carry in his hand a large pipe, formed of clay 
or marble, and adorned with feathers, which is called the 
calumet of peace. And this is a symbol, more expressive 
to the savage mind, than would be the utterance of the 
same thing in words, that his visitant cherishes sentiments 
of amity and good will. 

Further ; — when any of the North American savages 
form a treaty with any other tribe or nation, they employ, 
as a symbol of certain feelings and determinations, the 
belt of wampum, composed of shells of different colours, 
but generally black and white, and wrought into the shape 
of beads. The beads are perforated and strung upon a 
thong, and several of these thongs, united together, consti- 
tute a belt. One party to the treaty holds one end of the 
belt, the other party holds the other ; — a symbolical action, 
by which the savages understand tlie'sincere and recipro- 
cal confirmation of the stipulations of the treaty. 



ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 121 

Such symbolick actions were frequent also, as intima- 
ted above, among the Hebrews. It will be enough, in il- 
lustration of this remark, merely to allude to the following 
instances, which may be more fully understood by a refer- 
ence to the Scriptures. 

Elisha directs Joash to shoot arrows out of a window 
eastward. Jeremiah, acting under divine direction, hides 
the linen girdle in the hole of a rock near Euphrates ; — he 
breaks a potter's vessel in the sight of the people ; — he 
puts on bonds and yokes, and casts a book into Euphrates. 
Ezekiel weighs his beard, delineates the siege of Jerusalem 
on a tile, &c. 

§. 10S. Objections to the symbolick language of scripture. 

It has been sometimes thought, that the symbolick tic- 
tions, mentioned in the preceding section, were below the 
dignity of the propVetick office. They have, indeed, by 
opposers of the Bible, b on charged with nothing less 
than meanness, absurdity, fanaticism. A short-sighted 
conclusion this. 

It ought to be remembered, that it was the spirit of the 
times, the feeling of the people themselves, which dictated 
those actions ; and if with good reason we speak of the 
spirit of the age in regard to every generation of men, it 
is absurd and fanatical in us to set up the feelings and 
practices of our own period, to guide us in the estimation 
of the actions of individuals in all the ages preceding. 

The people undoubtedly well understood the meaning, 
when Ezekiel weighed the hair of his beard in balances 
and delineated the siege of Jerusalem on a tile ; — and the 
action was no more considered foolish and improper, than 
very many gesticulations are so considered by us, which 
we every day witness, without any sense of incongruity or 
any emotions of surprise. 

§, 100. Of pictorial delineations as signs of thought. 

We next consider those pictured delineations, which 
16 



122 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

vje meant to convey ideas by means of visible sketches of 
actions and events precisely, as they exist. These deline- 
ations are made sometimes in painting, sometimes in em- 
broidered work, and in other ways. 

The expression of ideas in this method has been more 
or less practised in all nations during the early periods of 
their history, and has been of considerable aid to them in 
making out the record of their early annals. We are in- 
formed in the Pentateuch, that figures were embroidered 
in the curtains of the holy of holies; and learn from the 
ancient poems of Homer, that Helen wrought in embroid- 
ery the pictures of the battles, m which the ill-fated attrac- 
tions of her own person had caused the Greeks and Ro- 
mans to be engaged. We find some evidence of the ex- 
istence of this mode of expressing and transmitting ideas 
among the Persians, Phenicians, Egyptians, Scandinavians, 
as well as among the Greeks and Hebrews ; — although, as 
may well be supposed, when we ascend to a period so far 
back, as to have rendered this imperfect mode of express- 
ing thoughts necessary, historical information becomes, in 
general, scanty and doubtful. 

The expression of ideas by painting in colours, or by 
pictorial writing in other ways, was found to exist among 
the savages of North America. Bows and arrows, hatch- 
ets, animals of various kinds were imprinted on the bodies 
of their chiefs, the indications of their calling and of their 
heroick qualities. 

A recent and somewhat striking illustration of this 
topick cannot well be omitted. In Schoolcraft's Journal 
of Travels through the north-western regions of the Uni- 
ted States, we are told that the party, in passing across 
from the river St. Louis, to Sandy Lake, had, with their 
Indian attendants, gotten out of the way, and could not 
tell, where they were. In consequence of being in this 
situation, the Indians, not knowing what might be the re- 
sult, determined to leave at a certain place, a memorial of 
their journey for the information of such of their tribe, as 
might happen to come in that direction afterwards. In 
the party there was a military officer, a person whom the 



ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 123 

Indians understood to be an attorney, and a mineralogist ; 
eight were armed ; when they halted, they formed three 
encampments. The savages went to work and traced out 
with their knives upon a piece of birch bark a man with a 
sword for the officer, another human figure with a book in 
his hand for the lawyer, and a third with a hammer for the 
mineralogist ; three ascending columns of smoke denoted 
the three encampments, and eight muskets, the number of 
armed men, &c. 

We find pictorial delineations to have been practised, 
in particular, among the original inhabitants of Mexico. 
It is related by historians, that when the Spaniards first 
landed upon that coast, the natives despatched messengers 
to the king, Montezuma, with a representation, painted on 
cloth, of the landing and appearance of the Europeans, 
The events and appearances, which they wished to des- 
cribe, were new to them, and these pictured representa- 
tions were the methods, which they adopted, in preference 
to any other, to express those ideas which they deemed 
it important the king should immediately possess. 

Pictures, as well as gestures, are a very imperfect mode 
of communicating ideas, as they must, from their very na- 
ture, be limited, in a great degree, to the description of 
external events. They fail in disclosing the connections 
of those events, in developing dispositions, intricate trains 
of thoughts, and, in some measure, the passions. 

§. 110. Of hieroglyphical writing. 

Hieroglyphicks, (from the Greek words, hieros, sa- 
cred, and GLUPHO, to carve,) are figures, sometimes paint- 
ed, or embroidered, and at others, carved out ; used to 
express ideas. They differ from pictorial writing, chiefly, 
in being an abridgment of it, and also in this particular, 
that they select, by the aid of analogies mare or less re- 
mote, figures for the purpose of expressing the less obvious 
mental emotions and abstract truths. 

Hieroglyphicks were employed much more among the 
Egyptians than elsewhere, and the whole art probably arose 



124 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

in this way. The method of communicating thoughts by 
means of paintings, as among the Mexicans, and which, 
undoubtedly, existed among the Egyptians, previous to the 
invention of Hieroglyphicks, was found inconvenient. ' The 
work was difficult in the execution, and bulky when it was 
completed ; and there was, accordingly, very soon an at- 
tempt at the abridgment of ^that method. 

Thus, the head might be used to designate a man ; two 
or more hands with weapons opposed, a battle ; a scaling 
ladder, set against a wall, a siege ; a leafless tree, the win- 
ter. But when those, who depended upon this mode of 
expressing their thoughts, came to certain classes of the 
passions, the moral qualities, and a variety of abstract 
truths, they were under the necessity of finding out cer- 
tain sensible objects, which bore or were supposed to bear 
some resemblance to such ideas, and, consequently, to go 
further in such instances, than a mere abridgment of pic- 
torial delineations. 

The eye was selected, in reference to such analogies, 
to signify wisdom ; ingratitude was expressed by a viper, 
biting the hand, that gave it food ; courage, by a lion ; 
imprudence, by a fly ; cunning, by a serpent. 

On the temple of Minerva at Sais, there were the fol- 
lowing hieroglyphical characters, an infant, an old man, a 
hawk, a fish, and a river horse, expressing this moral idea ; 
All you, who come into the world, and go out of it, 
know this, that impudence is hateful ; a plain and prac- 
tical truth, quite worthy to be read and understood by the 
people. 

As the number of ideas among the people increased, 
and became more and more abstract, greater ingenuity was 
required in the invention of hieroglyphical characters to 
express them. Thus ; a winged globe, with a serpent 
issuing from it, came to de r note the universe, or universal 
nature. 

The opinion has been often expressed, that the knowl- 
edge, wrapt up in the hieroglyphical characters of the 
Egyptians, and which embraced history, laws, and civil 
polity, was limited wholly to the priests, and that the com- 



©RIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 



125 



nion people were made acquainted with it, only as they re- 
ceived it from the priests. This might from some causes 
have been the feet ultimately ; but probably hieroglyphicks 
were at first designed not more for the priests than for the 
people, not to conceal knowledge, but to preserve and to 
communicate it. 

We come now briefly to consider the written charac- 
ters of the Chinese. 

§. 111. Of the written characters of the Chinese. 

It is a peculiarity of the Chinese language, that it em- 
ploys characters, i. e., artificial and arbitrary delinea- 
tions, to express ideas, instead of words. Thus, for the 
idea, expressed by the English word, prisoner, we have 
this delineation, which is less complicated than many 
others, viz. a figure, approaching in its form to a square 
with another figure nearly in the shape of an equilateral 
triangle, placed in the centre of it. The character, which, 
as it is articulated, is eul, and answers to the English 
word, ear, is somewhat in the shape of a parallelogram, 
crossed at nearly equal distances from the erids by lines, 
drawn at right angles to the sides. 

As every separate idea must have a distinct, separate 
character, standing for it, they are of course numerous. 
The elaborate Chinese work, called by way of distinction, 
the great dictionary, contains sixty thousand of them ; 
although an acquaintance with a far less number, it is sup- 
posed, with no more than two thousand, will enable one 
to read, that number being found sufficient for the under- 
standing of treatises on common topicks and for the ordin- 
ary transactions of business. 

§. 112. The Chinese character an improvement on the 
hieroglyphical. 

As hieroglyphicks are an improvement on the mode of 
expressing ideas by painting, the characters employed by 
£he Chinese may with good reason be considered the next 



126 ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 

step in advance of hieroglyphicks. It is a proof of this, 
that many of the characters, particularly those called el- 
ementary, bore originally an analogy or resemblance to 
the objects, for which they stand. They were of course 
anciently hieroglyphicks, although now arbitrary charac- 
ters. The fact, on which this conclusion is founded, 
is ascertained by consulting ancient inscriptions on cups 
of serpentine stone, on vases of porcelain, on seals of 
agate, and the characters used in editions of very an- 
cient books. The characters, which at present stand 
for the sun, moon, a field, and the mouth, are quite arbi- 
trary, and we discover no analogy between them and the 
object ; but it was otherwise at first. 

The sun was originally represented by a circle with a 
dot in the centre ; the moon, by the segment of a circle ; 
a field by a figure resembling a square, set off into small- 
er divisions by two lines intersecting each other at right 
angles in the centre ; a mouth by a figure, intended to re- 
semble the projection of the lips. 

The Chinese character, then, may be considered to be 
the connecting link between hieroglyphicks and alphabet- 
ical languages. And its comparative value, as a means of 
expressing thought, seems to be indicated by the place, 
which it holds, viz. greater than that of the purely hiero- 
glyphical system, and less than that of the languages, form- 
ed of alphabets. 

JVbte, — The progress of the system of the Chiner.e from a hieroglyphica,; 
to a purely arbitrary character m;iy be illustrated by the following story. 

A tavern-keeper in Hungary, unable to write, kept account of the pums due 
to him by strokes chalked on his door , to each series of strokes was annexed a 
figure to denote the customer, to whom they applied. The soldier was repre- 
sented by the figure of a musket, the carpenter by a saw, the smith by a ham- 
mer. Tn a short time for convenience, the musket was reduced to a straight line, 
the saw to a zig zag line, the hammer to a cross ; and thus began to be formed a 
set of characters, gradually receding from the original figure. The resemblance 
Blight, at last, be entirely lost sight of, snd the figures become mere arbitrary 
marks. 



ORIGIN OF SIGNS OF THOUGHT. 127 

$. 113. The invention of alphabetick language a subject 
of dispute. 

There is a great distance between the arbitrary char- 
acters of the Chinese, which are employed as the signs of 
ideas merely, and alphabetical language.-- Nor is it very easy 
to see, how the latter could flow out of the former, or what 
reciprocal connection of any kind they possess. Indeed it 
has been strenuously contended by many persons, that no 
progress of the human mind whatever, as it went forward 
from its barbarous to its more enlightened conditions, 
could have arrived at this wonderful invention. They con- 
sider it the gift of God. 

The arguments on both sides of the question, Whether 
alphabetick language be of human, or of divine origin, are 
numerous and ingenious. But as the nature of our design 
requires us to avoid, as much as possible, long discussions, 
this must be our apology for declining an inquiry, which 
is certainly interesting, and not unimportant. Of those* 
who maintain, that language is of divine origin are Warbur- 
ton, Johnson, and Blair ; of the opposite opinion are Rich- 
ard Simon and Condillac, with others on both sides. 

Note. — We subjoin in this note the remark, which may possibly be of use 1 
to future inquirers on the subject treated of in this chapter, that there was a.o* 
ciently among the Peruvians something like the arbitrary characters of the 
Chinese. That people early contrived the following method of expressing and 
preserving their thoughts, viz. by means of cords of different colours and by 
knots on these of various sizes and differently arranged. 

Something similar seems to have been practised among a North American 
tribe of savages, the Osages ; as appears from the journal of one of the mission- 
aries among them under date of Aug. 8, 1825. 

''Proposed to White Hair to assemble his people to hear preaching. Ke declin- 
ed, alledgi ng, that I gave him no tobacco. Sans Nerf said, it was bad to assemble 
the people ; they did not understand well ; but if I would tell what I had to say, 
he would tell it to the people. He then seated himself with his bundle of sticks, 
and I expressed to him twelve or fifteen ideas respecting God, his government, 8>-c 
For every idea he laid down a stick, which is his manner cf writing. After J 
had finished, he asked various questions, soliciting further explanations, until he 
was sat.sfied. He then counted all his sticks and said, I understand it all/' 



128 



CHAJPTER ELEVENTH. 



USE OF WORDS. 



§. 114. Superiour excellence of alphabetical language. 

Ift whatever way we may have come by alphabetical 
language, whether God himself were directly its author, 
or whether he early raised up some happy inventor, whose 
remembrance is now passed away, it is truly, if we may 
be allowed a scriptural allusion, a price, put into our hands, 
for the getting of wisdom. The single circumstance, that 
it is fitted to be employed, as a sign both of things and of 
vocal sounds, renders it greatly superiour to the afore-men- 
tioned modes of expressing thought, gestures, symbolick 
actions, hieroplyphicks, paintings, Chinese characters, or 
other methods, which may have been at any time used. 

As mental exertions are intimately connected with 
those means, by which they become obvious or are made 
known to others, one proof, and by no means a small one, 
of the superiour excellence of this over other methods may 
be found in the intellectual degradation of Savages and 
even of the Chinese themselves, compared with the nations 
of Europe. To whatever other causes this difference may 
be ascribed, the superiority of the latter in the signs of 
thought, which they employ, is undoubtedly one cause. 

It may be said of alphabetical language in one sense, 
that it not only expresses our ideas, but multiplies them ; at 
least, the facility of expressing and communicating thought 
by means of it sets men upon renewed thinking, and the 
result is wider views, more correct principles, sounder pol- 
icy ; moral, civil, and scientifick improvement. 

§. 115. Words are artificial and arbitrary signs. 

Words, whether we consider them, as written or spoken, 
for, as they arc thus respectively considered, they form the 



USE OF WORDS. 129 

two general divisions of written and spoken language, 
are arbitrary and conventional. They are used, as the 
signs of ideas, not because there is any natural or inherent 
fitness in them for this purpose, but are thus employed by 
agreement or general consent. So that the emperour, Au- 
gustus, confessed with good reason, that, while the politic- 
al and military movements of the world were under his 
direction, he had not power, of himself alone, to introduce 
a single, new word into the Latin tongue. If this state- 
ment were not correct, if words had any natural fitness for 
that purpose, for which they are employed, and were not 
conventional, there would be but one language ; all na- 
tions would use the same words, instead of the English em- 
ploying the word, white ; the Latin language, albus ; the 
French, blanc ; and the German, weiss for the same thing, 
with a similar diversity in the expression of other ideas, and 
in other languages. 

It ought to be observed, however, if we consider lan- 
guage, as it meets the ear instead of the eye, if we look at 
spoken, in distinction from written language, that there is 
a slight exception to this general view of its nature. We 
allude to a class of terms, of which the words, crash, 
twang, buzz, whistle, shrill, rattle, may be mentioned 
as specimens. There is evidently some resemblance be- 
tween these words, as they are enunciated by the voice, 
and the things, for which they stand; in other languages, 
some words, similar to these, that is, having a like relation 
to the things, for which they stand, are to be found. 

So that in regard to this very limited class, when we 
consider them merely, as they come from the voice or are 
sounded, there may be said to be a natural fitness or adap- 
tation in the words to the things, which they express : but 
with this exception, which is one of very limited extent, 
words are truly arbitrary and conventional signs. 

§. 116. Words at first few in number and limited to 
'particular objects. 

In the infancy of the human race, uiqii were without a 
17 



J 30 LSE OF WORDS. 

knowledge of the arts ; they had no laws, but the dictates 
of conscience, no regularly instituted form of government; 
they lived under the open sky, except when they retreated 
from the storm or the sunshine to the shade of trees or the 
cooler recesses of caverns. Their ideas, therefore, were 
few ; the articulate sounds, which either the active ingenu- 
ity of nature, or the special interference of Providence had 
taught them not only to frame, but to employ as the insti- 
tuted signs of things, must have been few also ; even more 
so, than their ideas. 

The few names, which they were able thus early to 
employ, related solely to the objects, with which they were 
immediately and particularly conversant ; they had a name 
for the tree, under which they sat at noon ; for the cavern, 
to which they occasionally retired ; for the fruit, which re- 
lieved their hunger ; and for the running water, at which 
they slaked their thirst. Afterwards they were led to form 
general names, standing for a number of objects, and prob- 
ably in the following manner. 



§. 117. Of the formation of general names or appella- 
tives. 

Man, naturally possessed of too much activity of spirit, 
to rest satisfied with remaining in one place, or to quiet 
his curiosity with a small number of objects, engages in 
some new enterprise, explores new tracts of country, and 
thus enlarges his knowledge. In going from place to place, 
he necessarily meets again with those particular objects, 
with which he had formed such an intimate acquaintance 
in his first residence. He meets with other trees, with 
other animals, with o trier caves and fountains, which he at 
once perceives to be of the same kind with those, that have 
previously come under his observation. 

The recurrence of these new objects instantly calls up 
the others. This happens by a law of his nature, which 
he cannot control ;— and the recollection is the more in- 
tense, as, in the infancy of things, curiosity is more alive, 
and astonishment more readily and deeply felt. The ob- 



USE ©F WORDS. to I 

jects, with which he had become first acquainted, could 
not be recalled without a remembrance, at the same time, 
of the names, which he had given fchem. As he perceives 
the objects, which he now beholds, to be the same in kind 
with those, which he first knew, he at once, and it might 
almost be said, by a natural impulse, concludes, that they 
have an equal Tight to the names with those, to which those 
names were first appropriated. He, therefore, exclaims, 
a tree! a cave ! a fountain ! whenever and wherever he 
meets them. And thus what was at first a particular term., 
and was employed to express only an individual, has its 
meaning extended, and comes in time to stand for a whole 
•class of objects. 

Such, there can hardly be a question, was the origin of 
general names ; and the statement is not only agreeable 
to the natural course of things, but is indirectly confirmed 
by many incidents. When the Spaniards first arrived at 
a certain region, bordering on the gulph of Mexico, and 
found, that the soil was rich, the dwellings good, the peo- 
ple numerous ; they cried out, it is another Spain, and 
after that it bore the name of New Spain. And Livy, in 
connection with the early history of Rome, relates con- 
cerning two Trojan chiefs, Antenor and Aeneas, that the 
places in Italy, where they respectively landed, were call- 
ed by them Troy, probably from the perception of some 
slight resemblance in the appearance of the shore or of the 
interiour country to the places of their previous residence ; 
— so readily does the mind connect together things, which 
are remote, and seek for analogies between what is novel 
and what is familiar. And it is on this principle, that we 
so often find ourselves in this country giving names to the 
objects around us, in allusion to what exists in some other 
continent ; calling a large river, another Thames, and lofty 
mountains, tjie American Alps. 

•§. 118. The formation of appellatives the result of a 
feeling of resemblance. 

We discover, in the way which has been mentioned, 
mh origin of appellatives or common names,(in treatises of 



132 USE OF WOBDS. 

logick more commonly termed genera and species,) the 
formation of which has sometimes been considered a point 
of difficult solution. Taking the statement, in the last 
section, to be the true one, it follows, that there is, pre- 
vious to the giving of the common name, a feeling or per- 
ception of resemblance, prevailing among those objects, 
to which the common name is applied. 

If there had not, between the perception of the objects 
and the giving of the common name, been an intermediate 
feeling of resemblance, the primitive framers of language 
would have been as likely to have assigned the appellative 
to the cave and the mountain, or to any other things alto- 
gether dissimilar, as to those resembling objects, to which 
it was assigned. 

When, therefore, those persons, who hold to the doc- 
trine of the Nominalists, say, that all general ideas are but 
names, they appear to mistake ; — there is something more 
than the mere name, viz., that feeling of resemblance, 
which has been mentioned,, and which, although it is diffi- 
cult to explain it, except it be by referring each one to his 
own intellectual experience, is clearly too important a cir- 
cumstance to be hastily overlooked and thrown out of the 
question. 

§. 119. Our earliest generalizations often incorrect. 

When man first opens his eye on nature, (and in the in- 
fancy of our race, he finds himself a novice, wherever he 
goes,) objects so numerous, so various in kind, so novel 
and interesting, crowd upon his attention ; that, attempting 
to direct himself to all at the same time, he loses sight of 
their specifical differences, and blends them together, more 
than a calm and accurate examination would justify. And 
hence our earliest classifications, the primitive genera and 
species, are often incorrectly made. 

Subsequently, when knowledge has been in some 
measure amassed, and reasoning and observation have 
been brought to a greater maturity, these errours are at- 
tended to; individuals are rejected from species, where 



USE OF WORD3, 133 

they do not properly belong, and species from genera. 
Logical writers give a different account of the origin of 
genera and species. We first separate (say they) the qual- 
ities, combined in the objects, which come under our ob- 
servation, and where we are able to trace the same quality 
or a number of them in different objects, we rank those ob- 
jects together as a species or genus, and give a common 
name. Thus, John is a man six feet high, and of a light 
complexion, but Peter is both short and swarthy, while 
the stranger, who is walking with them, is as tall as John, 
and his countenance not less dark than Peter's. Although 
there are some things, in which these three persons differ, 
we readily perceive, that there are other things, in which 
they agree, such as erect figure, speech, and reason ; and 
to this general perception, notion,or feeling of resemblance, 
we give the name, man. An4 man thenceforth becomes 
the name of a species. 

On this account of the origin of genera and species, 
given in books of logick, we briefly remark, that all scien- 
tifick classifications must be formed in this manner, by an 
examination and comparison of individuals. But then it is 
to be observed, that men generalize and form classes, be- 
fore they are able to do it in an exact and scientifick man- 
ner. There is aji imperfect generalization, which is promp- 
ted by nature, and which looks chiefly at resemblances, 
without minutely inquiring into the differences of objects. 
This comes first. Those corrections, which are made by 
resorting to the logical or scientifick method, come after- 
wards. 

May further be consulted on this part of this chapter, 
Stewart's Elements, Vol. II. chap. II. sect. 4. with note K., 
Adam Smith's Considerations on the first formation of lan- 
guages, — Brown's Philosophy of the mind, Lect. XL VI. 
XLVII. 

f. 120. Illustration of our first classifications from the 
savages of Wateeoo. 

•The English navigator, Cook, in going from New Zea- 



1 34 USB OF WORDS. 

land to the Friendly Islands, lighted on an island, called 
Wateeoo. 

" The inhabitants (he says) were afraid to come near 
our cows and horses, nor did they form the least concep- 
tion of their nature. But the sheep and goats did not sur- 
pass the limits of their ideas, for they gave us to under- 
stand, they knew them to be birds." 

Captain Cook informs lis, that these people were ac- 
quainted with only three sorts of animals, viz. dogs, hogs ? 
l >irds. 

Having never before seen any such animals as a cow or 
a horse, they beheld their great size and formidable aspect 
with admiuation ; filled with fear, they could not be in- 
duced to approach, and knew not what to call or to think 
of them. They noticed the goats and the sheep, and 
clearly saw, that they were different from the dogs and 
hogs, with which they had been acquainted. But how did 
it happen, that they called them birds *? 

There is no nation so rude and uncivilized, as not ta 
hove some few general terms, and how those general term* 
arc formed, we have above explained. Having noticed a 
variety of birds in their waters and forests, the people of 
Wateeoo had undoubtedly found it necessary before this pe- 
riod to assign some general name or appellative to the fly- 
ing animal, expressive of those resemblances, which evident- 
ly pervaded the whole class. They called them, we will 
suppose, birds. Knowing there was a great variety of them, 
and that they were of different sizes, they not unnaturally 
applied the same term to the sheep and goats of the En- 
glish. They knew not but there might be some new class 
of birds, which they had not hitherto noticed ; they saw 
no insuperable objection in the size of the sheep and 
goats ; and their agility and power of climbing over rocks 
and steep ascents readily reminded them of the power pf 
flying, which they might imagine those animals had not 
yet thought proper fully to exhibit. 

But they could clearly have no thoughts of this kind 
of cows and horses ; and as to hogs and dogs they had no 
generick term for them, having never known more than 



USE OF WORDS. 135 

one variety or class, and having never been led to suspect,. 
that there were any others. 

If any should be disposed to make strange of this clas- 
sification of these untutored savages, a little reflection may 
perhaps diminish their admiration. There are classifications 
to be found in the present improved state of the natural sci- 
ences not more accurate than this ; — that arrangement, for 
example, which assigns to the same "class and ranks under 
one name the man, that walks upright and the whale that 
swims, the ant, that creeps, and the gnat, that flies." 

4. 121. Whether reasoning be possible without general 

terms. 

It has been maintained by the Nominalists, who hold 
to the opinion of no general ideas, separate from their 
names, that no process of reasoning, however concise, can 
be carried on without the aid of general terms ; and of 
course, the statement, made in §. 118, that there must be a 
feeling or notioa of resemblance, that is, a general idea, dis- 
tinct both from the individual objects and from the common 
name, cannot be true. An attention to what takes place 
in the minds of infants, shows the contrary ; that they can- 
reason, draw conclusions, from one thing to another, and 
that, consequently, they have general ideas such, as have 
been explained, that is, certain general but real feelings 
of resemblance, altogether and essentially independent of 
the names, which are subsequently made to stand for them. 

It cannot, indeed be said, that the infant carries on its 
arguments to any great extent, but it does to some extent 
and accurately. Were it not able to follow out some con- 
cise trains of argument, its existence could hardly be pre- 
served. When the infant has once put his finger in the 
flame, he avoids a repetition of the experiment, reasoning 
in this way, that there is a resemblance between one flame 
and another, and that what has caused him pain, will be 
likely under the same circumstances to cause the same 
sensation. When the infant sees before him some glitter- 
ins toy, he reaches his hand towards it. and is evidently 



136 USE OF WORD&. 

induced to do so by a thought of this kind, that the acquis 
sition of the object will now follow the effort of the hand, 
as it has a similar effort previously -made. 

Words, then, whether general or particular, are not ab- 
solutely necessary to reasoning, and of course there may 
be ideas both general and particular, and those ideas may 
be compared together without words. The illustrations, 
which have been given, are sufficient, although brought 
from what we perceive to take place in infants. It is 
hazardous to refer on this point to those, who are grown 
up and have for years employed language. The words 
and the thoughts are, in this instance, so strongly associa- 
ted, that it is difficult to separate them. 

" The use of general terms," says Brown, " is not to en- 
able man to reason, but to enable him to reason well. They 
fix the steps of our progress. They give us the power of 
availing ourselves with confidence of our own past reason- 
ings and of the reasonings of others. They do not abso- 
lutely prevent us from wandering, but they prevent us from 
wandering very far, and are marks of direction, to which 
we can return. Without them we should be like travel- 
lers, journeying on an immense plain without a track, and 
without any points on the sky to determine, whether we 
were continuing to move east or west, north or south." 

§. 122. Of the formation of verbs. 

In the remarks, which have gone before, we have given 
an account of the origin of appellatives, or nouns substan- 
tive ; there are other ideas, expressed by another class of 
words, viz. verbs. And these words are of great conse- 
quence both in the construction and the application of 
language. As the ideas, expressed by verbs, concern ac- 
tions rather than objects, and the attributes and affections 
of things rather than the things themselves, and cannot, 
therefore, be so easily defined to the understanding, and 
fixed upon by it, words of this kind were not, we may sup- 
pose, so rapidly formed as others, although some of them 
must have been of very early origin. 



tJSE OF WORDS. 137 

Their origin may be illustrated in this way. Let it be 
admitted, that the primitive inhabitants have given names 
to certain wild animals ; Condillac supposes, that such 
names were given first, before those of trees, fountains, &c. 
No matter on what principle, those names were selected, 
for after all the investigations in regard to it, it is still a 
subject of doubt. It soon happens, as is very natural and 
reasonable to be imagined, that they see one of these an* 
imals, advancing towards them with great speed and appa- 
rent ferocity. Certainly they would have an idea of the 
motion of the animal, as something different from the an- 
imal itself; and if they could give a name to the animal, 
why not to the fact of his coming towards them or run- 
ning from them, as the fact might be ? 

In the formation of the noun substantive or general 
term, they exclaimed, The tyger ! The lion ! and this ex- 
clamation became in time the common name. But now 
they discover a new attribute or action of the wild beast, 
which affects them strongly and deserves a distinct appel- 
lation, and, hence, they utter some new exclamation ; it 
may be conjectured, the word, comes, or rushes ; and the 
cry now is, tyger — rushes ! lion — comes ! The articulate 
sounds, which under such circumstances are adopted, 
whatever they may be, are eventually fixed upon, as the 
conventional and permanent representatives of certain ac* 
tions, attributes, and affections of things, and iii the matu- 
rity of society and of knowledge, when man finds all that 
he has learnt subjected to a more exact and scientifick 
classification, they are accordingly classed as verbs. 

$. 123- Of the formation of conjunctions and other 

particles. 

It has been conjectured, that nouns and verbs were, in 
time of origin, the earliest of all the parts of speech ; and, 
in truth, the hypothesis does not rest solely upon conjec- 
ture. It was the object of men at first to express their 
ideas, as they could ; and they reckoned it of but little 
consequence, whether they did it. neatly or elegantly, 
18 



138 USE OF WORDS. 

Conjunctions, adverbs, prepositions, relative pronouns, were 
introduced by degrees, as they were found to be needed ; 
but nouns and verbs could never be dispensed with. And 
in addition to this consideration, that these parts of speech 
could not at any time have been dispensed with, there is 
much reason to suppose from a variety of investigations, 
that the particles, especially conjunctions, prepositions, 
and adverbs, were derived either from verbs or substan- 
tives, and of course they must have been subsequent in 
origin. 

It will at this time be sufficient briefly to examine this 
point in respect to conjunctions. 

The conjunction, if, was originally a \erb in the im- 
perative mode, viz. gif, the imperative of the Saxon word, 
gifan, which is the same with the modern, English infini- 
tive, to give. If we consider the original import of the 
words in this sentence, viz. If ye love me, ye will keep my 
commandments, it will stand thus ; Give or grant this, 
viz. ye love me, ye will keep my commandments. 

The conjunctions, unless, lest, and else, are deriva- 
tives from the Saxon verb, lesan, to dismiss. The mean- 
ing, conveyed in this sentence, viz. Unless ye believe, ye 
shall not understand, may be thus analyzed ; — Dismiss, ye 
believe, (the circumstance of belief being out of the way,) 
ye shall not understand. 

The conjunction, though, was originally a verb in the 
imperative from the Saxon, thafian, meaning to grant or 
allow. The word was originally thaf or thof, and is thus 
pronounced by many of the common people in England 
and the United States to this day. This sentence, Though 
he slay me, I will trust in him, may be thus explained, in 
conformity with the etymological derivation ; — Allow, grant 
this, he will slay me, I will trust in him. Other particles, 
particularly adverbs and prepositions, may, in many cases, 
be traced to nouns. 



USE OF WORDS. 139 

§. 124. Further remarks on the meaning of particles. 

It is proper to guard ourselves here, by saying, that 
when a language is once fully formed and settled upon, 
we would not advise a confident and indiscriminate refer- 
ence to the etymology of particles, in order to determine 
their present significancy ; although in many cases, as in 
those mentioned in the preceding section, such a reference 
throws light upon them. Whatever particles may have been 
at first, whether nouns or verbs, or whatever direct and 
positive significancy they may have once had, they are at 
last, when the language is fully formed, evidently without 
meaning, except so far as they are connected with other 
words. 

The proper use of them seems to be, to express the 
states of our mind, as we pass from one clause of a sen- 
tence to another, or from one proposition to another ; also 
the restriction, distinction, and opposition of our thoughts. 
Admitting, then, that, in some instances, we can derive 
considerable aid from etymology, the surest method of as- 
certaining the meaning of this class of words, is by obser- 
ving the operations of our own minds, as we connect to- 
gether our ideas in clauses, sentences, and consecutive 
propositions. 

$. 125. Of the origin of particular or proper names. 

Although general names or appellatives, as appeared 
in §. 116, were first applied to particular objects, as soon 
as they became general and were employed to denote 
classes of objects, they were no longer of use in the speci- 
fication of individuals. Their utility in that respect neces- 
sarily ceased. Hence arose the class of substances or 
nouns, called particular or proper names, designed espe- 
cially to indicate individual objects. In ascertaining to 
what objects terms of this kind shall be assigned, it can 
only be said, that we give proper names to such things, as 
we have frequent and urgent occasion to mention ; no oth- 
er rule can readily be laid down. 



140 U3E OF WORDS. 

We, accordingly, give particular names to rivers, lakes, 
cataracts, mountains, because we have frequent occasion 
to speak of them individually, of the Mississippi, the La 
Plata, the Alps, and the Appenines. There is still greater 
reason, why we should give names of this sort to our fellow 
beings, with whom we constantly associate, and on whom 
our happiness is in no small degree dependent. But the 
assignation of proper names is far from being limited to 
men, or to rivers, or to mountains, or to cataracts; — we 
continually meet with them. 

The merchant gives names to his vessels, the farmer to 
his oxen, the hunter to his dogs, and the jockey to his hor- 
ses, on the same principles and for the same reason, that 
one river is called Ganges and another Danube, and that 
one man is called John, another William* 

§. 126. Of the meaning of words as used by different 
persons. 

Words are to be considered, in the first place, as signs 
of the ideas of the speaker, of the person, who uses 
them. Very little privilege indeed would it be for him to 
make use of words, except as the signs of his own thoughts, 

A person, therefore, having a very imperfect notion of the 
powers of the electrick fluid, when he uses the word, elec- 
tricity, expresses, not the more ample idea of the well-in- 
formed philosopher, but that limited conception merely, 
which he himself happens to have. 

We suppose a piece of gold to be presented to a child, 
and, undoubtedly, the prominent idea, which he has of it, 
is, that it is something of a bright, beautiful yellow. An< 
other person, more advanced in age, adds the idea of weight 
to his complex notion of it ; another, who is better ac- 
quainted with its true nature, adds malleability, fusibility 
and any other qualities, which he may have been enabled 
to discover. The word, gold, in each of these cases stands 
for that particular idea, which each person has, and no 
more. 

But in our intercourse with our fellow men we find our- 



USE OP WORDS. 141 

selves constantly and necessarily making a reference In 
the language, which we use, to the ideas of others, as well 
as to the ideas in our own minds, I say, we do it neces- 
sarily, otherwise intercourse by means of language could 
not be carried on. 

And it becomes then important to inquire, what is the 
general rule, by which men in this particular are to be 
governed 9 When have they done what is incumbent upon 
them in ascertaining the meaning of others 9 

'Our duty in this respect is fulfilled, when we use words 
with their customary signification, employing them, as far 
as we are able to learn, with that meaning, which is ordina- 
rily and generally attached to them. 

When a meaning has been once affixed to a word, it is 
effectual in calling up to the mind the thing signified by 
it ; the mention of the word or the sight of it, (such is the 
power of that characteristick of our mental constitution, 
which is termed association.) almost as readily suggests 
the idea, as the object itself. 

§, 127. We have not words for all our ideas. 

Words are employed as signs, standing for ideas ; but 
it must not be imagined, and certainly is not true, that all 
ideas have words, corresponding to them. This assertion 
holds irrr-egard to both simple and complex ideas. Among 
our simple ideas are colours ; w r e call one colour, red ; an- 
other, white ; but it is certainly not too much to say, there 
are many diversities or grades in those colours, which we 
have a notion of or perceive, but have never given them 
specifick names. The same may be said of the diversities 
in our sensations of hearing, touch, and taste. 

There are various complex ideas, which a person has, 
or may have, and yet without names, answering to then:. 
In translating from one language into another, the truth 
here stated is clearly perceived ; in reading the German 
language, for example, which has a large number of very 
expressive compounds, we often meet with words, which 
suggest to the mind very clear ideas, but find no single 



142 USE OF WORDS. 

words in English precisely corresponding. And it is some- 
times with difficulty, that we can express them even by a 
number or combination of words. But, in general, we 
find in every well-formed language words, sufficient for the 
expression of those ideas, which are most distinctly form- 
ed, and which, in the intercourse of life, we have most 
frequent occasion to communicate. 

§. 128. Of the definition of words. 

The schoolmen defined terms per genus et bifferen- 
tiam, that is, by a term more general, than the word to be 
defined, with an additional word or words, expressive of 
some specifick or distinguishing quality. Thus, man was 
defined by them animal rationale, an animal endued with 
reason ; animal being the term, wider in signification or 
more generick than man, and rationale the epithet, in- 
dicative of the difference between man and other animals. 
A serious objection might be readily raised to this defini- 
tion. If the schoolmen meant by the epithet rationale 
what has been termed the discursive faculty or that opera- 
tion, by which we compare together propositions and de- 
duce conclusions from premises, it might be questioned, 
whether horses and elephants are not men, since it is the 
opinion of very many, that they possess this ability in 
some small degree. 

A better mode of definition is by enumerating and ex- 
plaining some essential elements, entering into the nature 
and composition of the thing to be defined ; and this an- 
alysis of the elementary parts may be more or less partic- 
ular, as circumstances require. 

It should be remarked here, that we now speak of the 

litibn of words, standing for complex ideas ; since, as 

observed in §. 50, where the reader is referred to 

ion for a further view of the subject, simple ideas 

nit of definitions. 

! can make the simple ideas of red, white, blue, 

r, <fec, more clear than they are at present by 

..lions; »>iiCitc\cr, which can be given. Motion 



USE OF WORDS. 143 

is a simple idea. It was defined by the schoolmen actus 
entis in potentia ojjatenus in potentia, the act of a being 
in power as far forth as in power. This, instead of making 
our idea of motion any more clear, is quite unintelligible. 
At a later period it has also been defined a passage 
from one place to another. To this definition there is this 
objection, that passage is synonymous with motion, and it 
amounts to no more than to say, that motion is motion 
from one place to another. 

Every person understands what is the meaning of the 
word, light, but the schoolmen, in order to make this gener- 
al understanding more easy and clear, defined it the act of 
perspicuous as far forth as perspicuous ; but if this definition 
should be given to a blind man, who had never possessed 
the faculty of sight, he would clearly be no wiser for it. 

Although it be difficult, or rather impossible to define 
simple ideas, to make them any clearer than they already 
are, what are called complex ideas admit of a definition. 
Complex ideas consist of various simple ideas combined to- 
gether; the words,standing for them, cannot,indeed, of them- 
selves, suggest the simple ideas, and show us what they are, 
independently of the aid of the senses ; but they may clear- 
ly and readily indicate to us, how these ideas are to be ar- 
ranged and combined together in order to form complex 
ones. The word, rainbow, expresses a complex idea. Ac- 
curately define it by an enumeration of the colours, enter- 
ing into its composition, and by a statement of its appear- 
ance to a person, who has the faculty of sight, and he will 
understand or have a conception of it, although he may nev- 
er have seen one ; and this happens, because he has the 
simple ideas, and the words or description shows him, how 
they are combined together. But it is impossible to impart 
such a conception to a person, who has always been blind, 
because he has never had the simple ideas of colours ; and 
words merely can never convey to him that knowledge. 

$. 129. Of (he imperfection of language. 
Language, notwithstanding its great and undeniable 



144 L t se or woubs. 

advantages, has its imperfections, and in this, is like every 
thing else, connected with our earthly existence. It may 
be said in general, to be imperfect, or to Fail of its object, 
whenever the same ideas are not excited in the mind of 
the hearer or reader, as in that of the speaker or writer. 
Nor can we reasonably expect, when we look at the cause 
or foundation of this imperfection, that it will ever be 
otherwise ; since that cause will be found to exist ultimate- 
ly in the condition of the mind and in our ideas, rather 
than in the words, which stand for them. This requires a 
brief illustration. 

It often happens, that men view the same objects and 
actions in different lights ; whether it be owing to some 
difference in early education, or to local prejudices, or to 
some other cause, the fact itself is well known, and may 
well be considered, as frequently unavoidable. Hence dif- 
ferent persons very often attach the same name to certain 
objects and actions, when their views of those actions and 
objects are not the same. One has a greater number, than 
another, of simple ideas, entering into his complex notions, 
and perhaps, in the formation of the compound, they re- 
spectively give to those simple ideas a different relation to 
each other. The consequence, therefore, is, that, in such 
cases, as have now been mentioned, the names or words, 
which are used, necessarily fail of exerting in the hearer 
the same ideas, that exist in the mind of the speaker. 

Many of the disputes, which have existed in the world, 
(and the history of philosophical opinions shows, how numer- 
ous they have been,) have been caused by a misunderstand- 
ing of this sort ; different persons using the same terms, 
when their ideas arc not the same. In support of this re- 
mark, it will be enough merely to refer to the often re- 
peated discussions upon virtue, conscience, faith, free will, 
obligation, religion &c. 

But language, in so far as it is imperfect, fails of the great 
object, for which it was invented and agreed upon, and it, 
therefore, becomes important to diminish the amount of 
this failure and to guard against it, as far as possible. 



USE OF WORDS, 145 

To this end, the following rules on the use of words may 
be laid down. 

§. 130. Words are not to be used without meaning. 

Rule First. — In the employment of language, the first 
rule to be laid down, is this, that we should never use a 
word without some meaning. It may be thought extraor- 
dinary, that any should use words in this way, but a little 
examination cannot fail to convince one of the fact. Let. 
any one inquire of those persons, who are in the habit of 
employing such words, as instinct, sympathy, antipathy, 
and a variety of others, which might be mentioned, and it 
will speedily appear, that, while some are greatly at a loss 
to assign any sort of meaning to them, others are utterly 
Unable to do it. They are applied, as one may say, by 
rote ; they have been learnt from hearing others use them, 
and are repeated, because they have been learnt, without 
their significancy having ever been inquired into. 

There are not only words used in this way, but whole 
phrases, of which the Peripatetick philosophy readily af- 
fords many instances. What can be said of " vegetative 
souls," " intentional species," " substantial forms," " abhor- 
rence of a vacuum," and the like, but that they are combi- 
nations of terms without meaning ; and while they have 
the appearance of science, are no better, than an intended 
imposition on the understanding ? 

This errour is much more frequent, than has generally 
been supposed ; — many words go down from one to an- 
other by a sort of hereditary descent, and are passively re- 
ceived and adopted, like a thousand opinions and prejudi- 
ces, which exist again, merely because they have existed 
before. We are exceedingly apt to adopt words from our 
parents and instructers, and to repeat the peculiar phrase- 
ologies of our favourite sect or party, and either out of our 
great reverence for them, or from the circumstance of our 
being too indolent to make careful inquiries, we rest satis- 
fied in a shameful ignorance of every thing but a mere 
sound. Hence, if it be considered desirable, that lan- 
guage should retain its value, which chiefly consists in re- 
19 



X4.G t)SE OF WORDS. 

cording and communicating thought, the rule laid down 
should be strictly observed, — not to employ words without 
meaning. 

§. 131. Words should stand for distinct and determin- 
ate ideas* 

Second Rule ;- — It is not enough, that we use words 
with meaning, or have ideas for them, but a second rule is, 
that the meaning or the ideas be distinct and determinate. 

We apply the epithet, distinct, to simple ideas, mean- 
ing by the expression, that they should carefully be kept 
separate from, and not confounded with other simple ideas. 
The epithet, determinate, may more properly be applied 
to the class of our ideas, called complex. As complex 
ideas are made up of simple ones, when we say, that they 
should be determinate, the meaning is, that a precise col- 
lection of simple ideas should be fixed upon in the mind ; 
that it should not remain a matter of uncertainty what sim- 
ple ideas are included and what are not. We at once see 
the value of this rule. If our simple ideas are confounded, 
one with another, or if we know not accurately the ele- 
ments of our complex states of mind, these circumstances 
necessarily diminish very much from the value of the words, 
standing for them. With this explanation, the rule cannot 
fail to be understood, viz. — That our words should have a 
distinct and determinate meaning ; or what is the same 
thing, that the ideas should be distinct and determinate, 
which the words express. 

The application of this rule seems to be peculiarly im- 
portant in regard to terms, standing for mixed modes, es- 
pecially such names of mixed modes, as are of a moral 
kind. And one reason of this is, that these terms have no 
settled objects in nature, no archetypes, to which they can 
be referred, which are external to, and independent of the 
mind itself. They have been rightly regarded, as a spe- 
cies of mental creations. The materials or simple ideas 
which compose them, are in a certain sense independent of 
the mind, but the arrangement of them is not ; and they, 



USE OF WORDS. 147 

therefore, have an existence by the mere choice and act 
of the mind, and are properly intellectual formations. 

The word justice, comes within the class of ideas, call- 
ed mixed modes, and, being a moral term, is of frequent 
occurrence ; but, although every person may be supposed 
to attach some meaning to it, that meaning is not always 
determinate, and, in consequence, the term often causes 
perplexity. We will imagine the proper definition of it to 
be this, — The assigning to any one a reward or punishment 
agreeably to law. It will readily occur, that the complex 
term will be involved in obscurity and uncertainty without 
a clear understanding of the subordinate idea, expressed 
by the word, law ; that the compound or the whole will 
not be fully known, without a knowledge of the number 
and of the character of the parts ; — and the same of 
other mixed modes. 

In respect to the names of substances it should be ob- 
served, that the ideas, which the names represent, should 
be not only distinct and determinate, but such, as will ac- 
curately correspond to the things themselves. 

It will, undoubtedly, be considered troublesome, to be 
under the necessity of complying with the directions here 
laid down, and to take so much care in settling in our 
minds the precise import of our complex notions. But it 
is a labour, which cannot well be dispensed with. Until 
it be undergone, men will often be perplexed as to their 
own meaning, and disputes, which might by a different 
course be speedily terminated, will be prolonged and mul- 
tiplied without end. 

§. 132. The same word not to be used at the same time 
in different smses. 



Third rule ; — We are not to use the same word in the 
same discourse with different meanings ; with this excep- 
tion, that, if we should find it in some degree necessary 
slightly to vary the signification, which may sometimes be 
the case, notice should be given of it. But it is at once 
remarked, in connection with this rule, that words in all 



148 U3E OF WORDS. 

languages have a variety of significations, and that it can- 
not well be otherwise, unless we are willing to multiply 
them to an inordinate and burdensome degree. This is 
true ; — but it may justly be replied, that no well constitu- 
ted language admits varieties of meaning, which the train 
of the discourse, the natural connection of thought fails to 
suggest. When, therefore, a person uses an important 
word in an argument with another, or in any separate dis- 
course, whether the signification be the common one or 
not, it is rightly expected, that he employ it in the same 
sense afterwards, in which he was understood to use it, when 
he began. If he do not, there will be unavoidable misun- 
derstanding ; the most laboured discourses will fail of giv- 
ing instruction, and controversies under such circumstan- 
ces cannot be terminated. This making the same word 
stand for different ideas, is spoken of by Mr. Locke, as a 
species of cheating ; it being much the same, as if a per- 
son in settling his accounts, should employ the number, 
three, sometimes for three ; at others, for four, five, or 
nine, which could not be attributed to any thing else, than 
great ignorance, or great want of honesty. 

§. 133. Words are to be employed agreeably to good 
and reputable use. 

The fourth rule is, that we are to employ names with 
such ideas, as good and reputable use has affixed to them. 
One object of language is to communicate our ideas to 
others ; and this object necessarily fails without an obser- 
vance of this rule, since common or general use, in the 
meaning of writers on rhetorick, is no other, than good or 
reputable use. 

This subject was briefly touched upon in §. 126, where 
it appeared, that, if we would fulfil .the purposes of lan- 
guage, we ought to use words with their customary signifi- 
cation, employing them with that meaning, which, as far 
as we are able to learn, is ordinarily and generally attach- 
ed to them. But this remark does not exhaust this topick. 

It still remains to be inquired, What we are to under* 



USE OP WORDS. 149 

stand by common, or, what is to be considered the same 
thing, good and reputable usage 9 — and this is a point, 
which cannot be decided without some care, and a recur- 
rence to some general principles. In answer to the ques- 
tion, What is the common usage of a language 3 — What is 
good and reputable use "7 — or What is that use of a word, 
which will justify one in adopting and employing it ? the 
three following rules may be given. 

<§. 134. What constitutes good and reputable use. 

(1) It is one circumstance in favour of the good and 
reputable usage of a word, which constitutes what is other- 
wise termed common use, that it is found in the writings of 
a considerable number, if not the majority of good authors. 
It is not, in ordinary cases, sufficient to authorize a word, 
that it is found in one merely, or even in a few such writers, 
and those, who are supported by such limited authority, 
cannot expect to be generally understood. 

(2) A second direction is, that the words, which lay 
claim to good and reputable use, should not be provincial, 
or limited to a particular district of country ; — Further, 
those words, which are recently introduced from a foreign 
tongue, either by merchants in the intercourse of business, 
or by travellers for other reasons or in other ways, but 
which are not naturalized, and are not known to be neces- 
sary, have not this character. Good and reputable words 
are such, as are in use among the great mass of the peo- 
ple in all parts of the territories of a country, however exten- 
sive, where any language is professed to be spoken. This is 
what is termed national use, in distinction from that jargon, 
which often springs up in neighbourhoods, or which, in 
the ways, to which we have already alluded, is at times 
introduced from a foreign source. 

(3) There is implied, thirdly, in the common and re- 
putable use of a language, that use, which prevails at the 
present time. If we would employ words with their cus- 
tomary signification, with that meaning, which is ordinari- 
ly attached to them, we must adopt the use of the period, 



150 USE OF WORDS. 

in which we live. It is not, however, necessarily implied 
in this rule, that we must limit ourselves to the present 
year or even the present age. Certain limits, it is true* 
must be fixed upon, which include our own times, but they 
may be of greater or less extent, although it is a matter of 
no small difficulty judiciously to ascertain and define them. 

Note. The subject of the nature and characteristic!^ 
of the use, which gives law to language, is particularly ex- 
amined by Dr. Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetorick. 
To this book, the reputation of which is too well establish- 
ed to stand in need of any recommendation here, the rea- 
der is referred for further suggestions on the topick of tbM 
section. 

$. 135. Of an universal language. 

The inquiry has sometimes been started, Whether there 
might not be a language, which should be permanent, and 
be employed by all nations ; — in other words, Whether 
there might not be an universal language °l The im- 
practicability of such an universal tongue appears both 
from the nature and the history of this mode of expressing 
thought. 

(1) The nature of language shows its impracticability. 

It is an idea, which observation seems to have well es- 
tablished, that whatever is imperfect has a tendency to 
work out its own ruin ; and language, however excellent 
an invention, can never be otherwise than imperfect, since 
the human mind, whch forms it, is itself limited, and is 
often running into errour. It will illustrate this remark, 
when we are reminded, that the external, material world is 
one of the great sources of our ideas, but our mental pow- 
ers being imperfect, different persons form different ideas 
of the same objects. They then agree in giving the same 
names to these ideas or combinations of ideas, and there 
often arises in this way a mutual misapprehension of that 
very agreement, which is not'only the origin, but the sup- 
port of language. The seeds of the mutability and des- 
truction of language art;, therefore, sown in its very birth. 



USE OF WORDS. 151 

since a very little reflection cannot fail to show, how many 
perplexities, how many discussions, how many changes may 
arise from this single circumstance, that, in consequence 
of the imperfection of our faculties, men often agree to 
consider words, as standing for what they imagine to be 
the same ideas, but which are not. We cannot, then, rea- 
sonably expect an universal and permanent language, until 
our minds can fully penetrate into the true nature of things, 
until our ideas are perfect, and different individuals can cer- 
tainly and exactly inform themselves of the thoughts, ex- 
isting in the minds of others. 

Further ; — the political institutions of one country, the 
peculiarities in the aspects of its natural scenery, early as- 
sociations, occupations, and habits, lay the foundation for 
a variety of thoughts and shades of thought, which, in 
other countries, will not exist, because the causes of their 
existence are not to be found. If thoughts, feelings, imag- 
inations exist under these circumstances, words will be 
needed to express them, for which there will be no occasion 
in another country and among another people ; — so that 
we find here also a permanent and extensive cause of the 
diversities of language. 

(2) The impracticability of an universal language h 
seen also from the history of languages in times past. 

We cannot conceive of an universal language without 
supposing it to be permanent, for if there were any causes, 
which would operate to affect its permanency, the opera- 
tion of the same causes would be felt in checking and pre- 
venting its universality. But if we search the whole his- 
tory of man, in order to find a language, that has remained 
permanent, unaltered ; it will be an entirely fruitless pur- 
suit. Not one such can be found. 

There appears to have been originally in Asia Minor a 
language, spoken to a great extent, which after a time dis- 
appeared, so that the very name is lost. So far from being 
able to maintain itself and increase the territories, where it 
was spoken, it was at last broken up into a variety of sub- 
ordinate idioms, certainly no less than seven, the Hebrew* 



152 • USE OF WORDS. 

the Syriack, the Chaldaick, the Arabick, the Ethiopick, ft 
the Phenician, and Samaritan. 

A common language seems also to have been the ori- 
ginal foundation of the different dialects of Greece. 

No reason can be given in explanation of the want of 
permanency in these ancient languages, which would not 
lead us to expect constant changes in any other tongue, 
and under any other circumstances. If all the nations of 
the earth could, by the providence of the Supreme Being, 
be made to-morrow acquainted with one universal speech, 
a knowledge of the nature of language and of its history 
would warrant us in predicting the speedy discontinuance 
of this universality and the division of the language of the 
world into the dialects of islands, continents, and sectional 
territories. So that the remark of De Stutt-Tracy, a 
French writer on the Mind, that an universal language is 
as much an impossibility as a perpetual motion, is not 
without reason. 

§. 136. Remarks of Condillac on the changes, and cor- 
ruptions of language. 

It is a remark of Condillac, to whose treatise on the 
Origin of Knowledge, we have already had occasion to re- 
fer, that it is nearly the same in language, as in physicks, 
where motion, the source of life, becomes the principle of 
destruction. "When a language abounds (says he) with 
original writers in every kind, the more a person is endowed 
with abilities, the more difficult he thinks it will be to sur- 
pass them. A mere equality would not satisfy his ambition ; 
like them he wants the pre-eminence. He, therefore, tries 
a new road. But as every style analogous to the charac- 
ter of the language, and to his own, hath been already used 
by preceding writers, he has nothing left but to deviate 
from analogy. Thus in order to be an original, he is obli- 
ged to contribute to the ruin of a language, which a century 
sooner he would have helped to improve. 

Though such writers may be criticised, their superiour 
abilities must still command success. The ease there 
is in copying their defects, soon persuades men of indirTer- 



CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 158 

ent capacities, that they shall acquire the same degree of 
reputation. Then begins the reign of subtile and strained 
conceits, of affected antitheses, of specious paradoxes, of 
frivolous and far-fetched expressions, of new-fangled words, 
and in short of the jargon of persons, whose understandings 
have been debauched by bad metaphysicks. The publick 
applauds ; foolish and ridiculous writings, the beings of a 
day, are surprisingly multiplied ; a vicious taste infects the 
arts and sciences, which is followed by a visible decrease 
of men of abilities." 



CHAPTER TWELFTH. 



CHARACTSj&ZSTXCKS OF X.AN€K7A&E3. 



§. 137. General remarks on 'peculiarities of style. 

The style of a writer is his choice of words and manner 
of arranging them. Every writer of genius employs a style 
in some degree peculiar to himself. The nature of lan- 
guage leads us to expect this. Language is the express- 
ion of thought, and all writers of real worth think and feel 
in some degree for themselves \ their style, therefore, 
which embodies and sets forth their mental states to others, 
will have a form and impress of its own. The languages 
of nations also have a style or peculiarity of manner, — cer- 
tain prevailing characteristicks, which readily distinguish 
them from those of other nations. 

The style of individual writers, the characteristicks in 
the style of Savages in their brief records and speeches, 
and those also of the languages of civilized and literary 
communities are all subjects of philosophical inquiry, and 
never can be fully understood and explained without re- 
ferring to some principles of the human mind, 

20 



154 CHARACTEJRISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 

$. 138. Ckaracteristicks of style in uncivilized nations. 

As uncivilized tribes are ignorant of alphabetical lan- 
guage, they are unable to furnish us with many specimens 
of mental effort ; — rarely any thing more than some brief 
historical sketches, war songs, and speeches. The words, 
which such tribes employ, are generally few in number, 
compared with the vocabulary of civilized nations ; and of 
this number only a small proportion are the signs of ab- 
stract ideas. Having but few abstract ideas, and, conse- 
quently, but few names for them, they are under a necessi- 
ty of resorting constantly to figurative illustrations; so 
that their language seems to partake of the materiality of 
the external objects, with which they are chiefly conver- 
sant. But aided, as they are, by metaphorical expressions, 
their stock of words still remains small ; and the sentences, 
which they utter, must, therefore, of necessity be short. 
These short and figurative sentences are inspirited with 
all the untamed passions of a savage mind. 

"The bones of our countrymen (say the Chiefs) lie un- 
covered ; their bloody bed has not been washed clean ; 
their spirits cry against us ; they must be appeased ; sit 
no longer inactive upon your mats ; lift the hatchets ? con- 
sole the spirits of the dead." 

§. 139. Origin of apologues and of the parabolick style. 

Nations, while in an uncivilized state, or when at best 
they are only in their progress towards intellectual refine- 
ment, do not often attempt abstract reasonings or abstract 
speculations of any kind ; — and this is one marked char- 
acteristick of the style of such periods. The causes are 
chiefly two. 

One of which is, that they have a small number of gen- 
eral terms ; and it could not be expected to be otherwise. 
It appeared at §. 121, that we are capable of carrying on 
trains of reasoning to some little extent without the aid of 
general terms or those words, which stand for abstract 
ideas ; but it was no less evident, that they are of great 

( 



CHARACTERIST1CKS OF LANGUAGES, 155 

use, and that without them all processes of reasoning must 
be very much circumscribed. 

This circumstance also deserves consideration, as ac- 
counting in some measure for the absence of abstract spec- 
ulations and reasonings from the mental efforts of nations 
in the early periods of their history, viz. They do not 
possess, to that number desirable, those parts of speech, 
such as conjunctions and relative pronouns, which are used 
to connect sentences and clauses of sentences, and to show 
their distinction from each other, or opposition. It ap- 
peared at §. 123, that these classes of words, which are 
evidently very important in long and connected trains of 
thought, and also adverbs and prepositions, are subsequent 
in their origin to nouns and verbs ; in other words, that, in 
the formation of a language, these are the parts, which are 
completed last. 

Under these circumstances, their reasonings, as might 
be expected, are applied to the minds of people by a vari- 
ety of obvious and familiar illustrations,— ; by means of apo- 
logues and parables. 

When Menennius Agrippa (year 260 of the Roman re- 
publick) wishes to convince the people of the necessity of 
subordination to the regularly constituted government, he 
lays down no abstract proposition and enters into no argu- 
ment. The historian informs us, that he merely related, 
in an antiquated and uncouth way, the story of a rebellion 
on the part of the other members of the body, the hands, 
the mouth, and the teeth, against the stomach, and leaves 
them to make an application of it. The people usider- 
stood what he meant. 

Not to say any thing of the apologues and parables, 
attributed to Msop and others, the Bible itself, written far 
the most part at a very early period, helps to illustrate 
these remarks. Who does not recollect the apologue of 
the trees by Jotham in the book of Judges, that of the two 
men in one city by Nathan, and a multitude of others ;— 
in particular, the interesting parables of the Saviour '? 



156 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 

§. 140. Of the style of civilized and scientifick nations. 

A& a nation advances in knowledge, its language be^ 
comes more strictly conventional, losing by degrees that 
metaphorical aspect, which it presented in its earlier peri- 
ods. A variety of new words are introduced, which pre- 
viously had no existence, because the things,' for which 
they stand, were not then known. New arts have their 
technical names and epithets, and new sciences furnish us 
with their novel nomenclatures. 

The distiller speaks of the cohobation of liquors ; the 
worker in mines of collieries ; the chymist of sulphates and 
muriates ; the botanist and mineralogist employ a variety 
of terms, peculiar to their respective departments. An 
increased refinement and abstraction discovers itself in 
terms, appropriated to moral, political, and literary subr 
jects ; and the language in all respects is more removed 
from the senses, and becomes more intellectual. But 
while it is more exact and scientifick, it is less fervent and 
poetical ; a Savage, if he had the most refined language 
of Europe at his command, would be at a loss to express 
in it the fiery emotions of his bosom ; he would choose 
the dialect of his tribe. 

§. 141. Characteristicks of languages depend much on 
the habits, &c. of the people. 

Individual writers, as already observed, have a style 
that is, characteristicks of expression, of their own ; for 
every one has a tendency to connect together thoughts or 
words, which are the signs of thoughts, agreeably to his 
peculiar passions, and intellectual habits. But languages 
also, considered in their whole extent, have a style; be- 
cause the nations, the whole inass of people, that make 
use of those languages, have their characteristicks, as well 
as individuals. It follows, tjjen, from this, thjjt languages 
assume their general character or style, in a good mea- 
sure, from that of the people ; and this is what we are 
willing to maintain. It will be found, that the language 



CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 157 

of every people has words, combinations of words, pecu- 
liarities of grammatical construction, &c. springing entire- 
ly out of the national habits and the* exigencies of their 
peculiar circumstances. Thus, — we have the word, cor- 
ban, in Hebrew, anggaros in Persian, ostrakismos in 
Greek, proscriptio and virtus in Latin ; words, which 
are either wholly peculiar to their respective languages, or 
employed with some peculiarity of meaning, not elsewhere 
acknowledged. We find combinations of words and pe- 
culiarities of grammatical construction in the Hebrew and 
its cognate dialects, which we do not find in the languages 
of modern Europe ; and this will be more or less the case 
in whatever other languages or classes of languages we 
may compare together. 

The single fact, without going into particulars, that no 
person can become fully acquainted with the true import 
and spirit of a language, without an acquaintance with the 
geography of their country and its natural scenery, without 
a knowledge of the dress, buildings, arts, religion, customs, 
and history of the people, seems enough in support of the 
remark, that languages take their character from the cir- 
cumstances of those, who speak them. If the fact, on 
which the conclusion is founded, be doubted, then we ask, 
why instructers consider it so essential, that their pupils 
should have a knowledge of the antiquities of the Romans, 
of the antiquities of the Greeks, of the antiquities of the 
Hebrews 9 — and why this course is pursued, or is ac- 
knowledged to be requisite, in respect to every'other dead 
language ■*? 

"§. 142. Languages help us in forming a correct idea 
of the national character. 

If the statements in the preceding section be true, it 
follows, that a knowledge of languages very much helps 
us in acquiring a knowledge of the character of the peo- 
ple, who speak them. The study of every language is the 
examination of a new chapter in. the history and operations 
of the mind ; — that is, of the mind, as it is modified by pe- 



158 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 

culiar circumstances, the climate, government, habits, &c, 
of a people. Without an acquaintance, therefore, with 
their vernacular tongue, the critick will in vain take it 
upon him, to judge of the philosophy of their literature and 
character. It is this, that breathes the national spirit; — it 
fixes and retains it, after the nation itself is extinct. 

Whatever may have been at any time thought, it will 
be found on examination, that those individuals, who are 
looked up to, as the eminent writers of a nation, seldom 
arise, until its language is nearly or quite completed. They 
employ it, as the people have formed it ; and the people 
have formed it, as their feelings .and habits prompted. 

§. 143. Of the correspondence between national intellect 
and ike progress of a language. 

The circumstance, that language is a great and admi- 
rable instrument of intellectual power, is of itself no small 
confirmation of the hint thrown out in §. 142, that devel- 
opements of intellectual strength will correspond to the 
progressive improvement of a language, and that its great 
men, those, who are to speak in it long as it shall exist, 
will not make their appearance, until it have arrived to 
some degree of perfection. 

Let it be supposed, that in the midst of a savage tribe, 
whose language is rude, a person is found of perfect men- 
tal organization, capable of remembering, separating, and 
comparing ideas, with a quickness of invention, and other 
qualities of genius above the common lot. He has influ> 
ence over the minds of others ; he is consulted in difficult 
emergencies ; he is accounted wise ; but how far he falls 
short of the mark, which is reached by others of originally 
nc greater genius, who appear in a civilized community 
with the advantage of a perfect language ! 

" It is with languages (says Condillac) as with geome- 
trical signs ; they give a new insight into things, and di- 
late the mind in proportion as they are more perfect. Sir 
Isaac Newton's extraordinary success was owing to the 
choice which had been alrjcady made of signs, together 



0HARACTEHISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 159 

nith the contrivance of methods of calculation. Had he 
appeared earlier, he might have been a great man for the 
age he would have lived in, but he would not have been 
the admiration of ours. It is the same in every other 
branch of learning. The success of geniuses, who have 
had the happiness even of the best organization, depends 
entirely on the progress of the language in regard to the 
age in which they live ; for words answer to geometri- 
cal signs, and the manner of using them to methods of 
calculation. In a language, therefore, defective in words, 
or whose construction is not sufficiently easy and convene 
ient, we should meet with the same obstacles as occurred 
iu geometry before the invention of algebra. The French 
tongue was for a long time so unfavourable to the progress 
of the mind, that if we could frame an idea of Corneille 
successively in the different ages of our monarchy, we 
should find him to have been possessed of less genius in 
proportion to his greater distance from the age in which 
he lived, till at length we should reach a Corneille, who 
could not give the least mark of abilities." (Origin of 
Knowledge, part II. §. I.) This writer thinks, it may be 
demonstrated, that there can be no such thing, as a supe- 
riour genius, till the language of a nation has been consid- 
erably improved. 

<§. 144. Different languages suited to different minds. 

Some languages are more suited to certain minds than 
they are to others ; more adapted also to the discussion of 
certain subjects, than others. The French language is 
simple, clear, precise, and, therefore, favourable to analyti- 
cal investigations. And it is here,it may be conjectured, that 
we find one cause of the superiour excellence of the mathe- 
maticians and philosophers, and of the comparative inferi- 
ority of the poets of that nation. Not that we mean to 
speak lightly of French poetry, for the genius of Corneille 
and other writers cannot but be felt even under the disad- 
vantages of their language ; but it cannot be presumed, that 
it would express, would give a reality of form and existence* 



160 CHtARACTERISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 

so admirably as the English, to the diversified, and illiniH 
table genius of Shakespeare. 

In no other languages, than the English and the Ger- 
man, could the Paradise Lost of Milton and the Messiah of 
Klopstock have been originally written; and into none 
others can their true spirit be transfused. To take a case 
yet more obvious, the Athenian orator could never have 
composed his orations in the language of the Prophets, 
that language being neither suited to his mind nor his cir- 
cumstances. The original tongue of the Old Testament 
is well adapted to lyricks and some forms of descriptive 
poetry, and to the simplest species of narration, but not to 
philosophical analysis, and to such abstract reasonings, as 
are more or less found in orations of a political nature. 

§. 145. Difficulties of translating from one language 
to another. 

It was remarked, that the true spirit of the Paradise 
Lost and of the Messiah of Klopstock cannot be transfused 
into any other language, than those, in which they were 
originally written. All translations from one language to 
another are difficult, but this is emphatically true of poe- 
try. But it is evident, that these difficulties could not ex- 
ist to their present extent, if all languages had not a char- 
acter or style of their own. 

Every tongue will be found to have combinations of 
ideas, peculiar to itself, which are expressed by a single 
word, and which do not exist in this precise state of com- 
bination in other languages. See for instances §. 141. 
A variety of associations also will be connected with the 
words and phrases of one dialect, which are not connected 
with the corresponding words and phrases in others, and 
which slightly affect the meaning in a manner, not readily 
perceptible by a foreigner. These go, among other things* 
to constitute the style or characteristicks of languages, and 
are found in poetry more than in writings on other sub- 
jects ; — and hence the peculiar difficulty, which has always 
been experienced, of translating it. 



CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 161 

|i 146. Ckaracteris ticks of the Greek and Latin lan- 
guages. 

There are characteristicks of a language, which are ap- 
propriate to some particular period of its progress, to its 
state of infancy, of manhood, or of decline. In its infancy 
it is metaphorical, wanting in copiousness, and adapted 
rather to express strong passions, than to abstract reason- 
ing. In its manhood it seems to be more removed from 
the senses and to become more strictly the creation of the 
intellect ; it has an increase in its range of expression, and 
is by degrees suited to abstract reasoning in its different 
kinds and to the various departments of literature. The 
causes and some of the marks of the decline of a language 
are to be found at <§>. 136, in the preceding chapter. 

We have seen also, that there is an influence exerted 
by the language on the men of superiour minds, the early 
writers of a nation, and that particular languages are bet- 
ter adapted to some minds and some species of writing 
than others. The subject can be further illustrated by a 
brief specification of some circumstances, in which a num- 
ber of important languages are found to differ ; beginning 
with the Greek and Latin, which sustain a relation of no 
ordinary kind to certain living languages, which are exten- 
sively spoken. 

The Greek and Latin differ from most modern langua- 
ges in admitting of transposition, and for this purpose have 
furnished certain classes of their words with particular vari- 
ations, by means of which they are made to refer to Other 
words, with which they are naturally connected by the 
meaning or sense of the passage. Whether this power 
gives those languages any essential advantage over others, 
which are destitute of it, is a point, which has been vari- 
ously decided. When these two languages are compared 
with each other, it will be found, that the Greek possesses 
remarkable harmony, which is at once perceived even by 
those, who do not understand the meaning of the wo/ds ; 
it has a great abundance of words, expressive of the dif- 
ferent classes of ideas and of slight variations of meaning, 

21 



102 eHARAGTERISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 

which is what is meant by the copiousness of a language, 
and is supposed to possess more, than any other language, 
the quality of flexibility or the power of giving to its words 
a great variety of arrangements. The Latin is somewhat 
marked for an air of stateliness and majesty, but, compar- 
ed with the Greek, is less copious and flexible; the cir- 
cumstance of its want, in some degree, of flexibility, its pos- 
session of a form of majesty, which it is unable to assume 
and lay aside at pleasure like the Greek, renders it not well 
suited for easy conversation. We have in this language 
fine specimens of historical writing. It is not so well 
adapted to certain kinds of poetry, particularly the con- 
densed and nervous sentiment, and the harmony of ex- 
pression in lyricks ; — Horace, a man of uncommon poetic- 
al genius, being the only successful instance in that kind 
of writing. 

§. 147. Characteristicks of the Italian language* 

The origin of the Italian language is a subject of no 
little difficulty, but among the various hypotheses, which 
have been advanced, that of Muratori seems, on some ac- 
counts, preferable to others. He considers the Latin lan- 
guage to have been successively adopted by the barbarian 
invaders and conquerors of Italy, but to have received from 
each of them a portion of their own phrases, inflexions, arid 
pronunciation ; and that the modern Italian was gradually 
formed in this way. In the fourteenth century, the lan- 
guage seems to have become fully constructed and fixed ; 
both poetry and prose having then been carried to a pitch 
of excellence, not since surpassed. 

Sweetness is so much the characteristick of this lan- 
guage, that it has been almost regarded by some, as if pur- 
posely formed for the service of musical genius. Although 
it is exceedingly harmonious, there is a want of diversity 
in its sounds, so much so that even its harmony proves 
tiresome. There has been in this language a historian, 
Machiavelli, who formed himself on the model of Tacitus, 
but it cannot be pretended, that strength is one of its char- 



CHARACTSRISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 163 

acteristicks, or that it is equally suited with the Latin to a 
genius, like that of the Roman historian. Nothing can be 
more finely fitted, than the sameness of melody, which pre- 
vails in this language, to that state of mind, that plaintive 
and melancholy feeling, which is the subject of elegiack 
poems. 

§. 148. Char acteristicks of the Spanish language. 

The Spanish language, which is the favoured dialect of 
so many young and hopeful republicks on the continent of 
America, is essentially the same in origin with the Italian ; 
but differing from it, notwithstanding, in many respects. 
It has, like all other languages, a character of its own. 
Sonorous and full, it seems to indicate, in its structure and 
movements, that dignified and measured solemnity, which 
is so well known to be characteristick of the people, who 
speak it. While it has not less than the majesty of the 
Latin, it much excels it in being adapted to the purposes 
of conversation and the common intercourse of life. As 
far as conversation is concerned, it is by some thought, al- 
though its pretensions come in competition with those of 
the French, to be the most elegant and courteous language 
in Europe. 

The order of chivalry first arose and was longest sus- 
tained among the Spaniards ; and as all the members of 
that romantick institution were bound to be polite, as well 
as heroick, it naturally happened, that there were introdu- 
ced in this way many expressions of respect and politeness, 
which have since been retained. 

In connection with these remarks, and as helping to 
illustrate the general views, given in this chapter, we bring 
to the notice of the reader certain criticisms, which have 
been made on the English translations of that interesting 
and well-known work, the Adventures of the Knight of 
La Mancha. It is sometimes said with great confidence, 
that the characters so finely drawn by Cervantes are still 
but very imperfectly known, excepting by those, who have 
read bis work in the language, in which he wrote. A great 



164 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 

point, in giving an idea of the two prominent characters, 
is, so to unite the follies of the hero with a certain gentle- 
manly demeanour, suited to his rank, and the obsequious 
credulity of the squire with such profound deference for 
his master, that the one may never fail in courtesy, and the 
other may never be wanting in respect. As their inter- 
course is constant, and they are on terms of great fa- 
miliarity, it is peculiarly difficult to prevent that familiarity 
of intercourse from becoming, on the part of the knight, 
something worse than dignified condescension, and, on the 
other hand, not less difficult to prevent the credulous and 
busy simplicity of the squire from degenerating into im- 
pertinence and disrespect. The line is here drawn with 
undeviating strictness in the Spanish, with the exception 
of a few instances of an extreme kind, where it seems not 
beyond the bounds of probability, that even chivalry should 
forget that dignified and scrupulous conduct, which it had 
ever professed. In no other living language could these 
two characters have been drawn, in the respects now men- 
tioned, with such fidelity as in the Spanish ; as no other 
possesses in the same degree the requisite qualities. . 

Of the French language we have already briefly 
spoken, — enough for our present purpose. Of the Eng- 
lish, the language of so many millions of freemen, and the 
repository of the thoughts of so many gifted minds, it is 
sufficient to let those, who use it, judge for themselves ; — 
just mentioning, however, the necessity of caution, lest 
their relation to it should betray them into a greater sen- 
sibility to its beauties than its defects. 

§. 149. Requisites of an interpreter of languages. 

From the views, which have now been taken of the 
characteristicks of language, we are led to educe a number 
of inferences, which may be stated in the form of rules or 
principles of interpretation ; — wishing to observe, however, 
that both the subject of the characteristicks of languages 
and that of interpretation are worthy of a more extensive ex- 
amination, than can be expected from such abridged hints 
as thcfce. They open a wide field for literary exertion, which 



CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 165 

has been zealously occupied by a few criticks, particularly 
among the Germans; and with such success, as to encour- 
age others to emulate their example. Those, who pursue 
it, cannot fail to meet with encouragement. The subject 
of the nature and interpretation of language is in itself, 
independent of any remote consequences, one of exceeding 
interest, and demands success. When interpretation is 
conducted on the principles here laid down, it is no longer 
a business of conjugations and declensions merely, it is 
not a mere dry comparison of words, but the study of the 
philosophy of human nature. 

Rule first ; — The interpreter must have a good, gram- 
matical knowledge of the vernacular tongue of the writer, 
whom he interprets. This, no doubt, is evident ; — it be- 
ing a necessary, preliminary step. 

Rule second ; — The interpreter should have a philo- 
sophical knowledge of the language. Something more is 
necessary than a knowledge of single words, of declensions, 
and conjugations, and of the rules of syntax. He must be 
acquainted with the prevailing spirit, or what are in this 
chapter termed the characteristicks of the language. He 
must inform himself of the history of the people, learn their 
peculiar associations, their customs, the state of the arts, 
&c. In no other way can he understand the true spirit, 
or have, what may be otherwise called, a philosophical 
knowledge of any language ; and without such knowledge 
he can never do justice to his author. (See §. 141.) 

Rule third ; — He must know something of the author 
himself, whatever is peculiar in his situation, or, in other 
words, his personal history. If languages have character- 
isticks or a style of their own, it is certainly not less true 
of individual authors ; and this diversity is partly owing to 
the peculiarities of their private fortunes. We cannot 
dissent from the saying of Petruchio in the play — 

" "Tie the mind, that makes the body rich." 

It may be safely admitted, that the mind is not wholly de- 
pendent on outward circumstances. If it be truly great, 
it will show something of the excellence of its nature in 
all situations, in want, in woe, in persecution, in ignorance 



166 CHARACTERISTICS OF LANGUAGES. 

Itself as the " sun breaks through clouds." But it is no 
less true, that circumstances are never without their influ- 
ence ; they give to the mind a new direction ; and almost 
impart to it, in some instances, a new character. Hence 
the importance of this rule. We are to inquire amid what 
scenery of nature the writer dwelt ? What early supersti- 
tions were made familiar to his mind? In what political 
and religious principles he was educated ? What was his 
personal calling and the degree of his rank in life ? What 
was his treatment from men 1 and what his peculiar views 
of human character ? And it is not, until these things are 
made known to us, that we are fully prepared to estimate 
what he has written. 

The remarks here made admit of an illustration in al- 
most all writers of any original genius. But to take an 
instance, which is familiar, and on that account perhaps is 
best chosen, it may be confidently said, that they may be 
illustrated from the writings of the New Testament. We 
observe a difference in the style of Matthew and Luke, of 
Paul and John. The situations in which they were placed, 
and circumstances under which they acted, had undoubted- 
ly an influence on their character, and through their char- 
acter on their writings, but this was not the whole origin 
of these peculiarities. Even the natural temperament of 
the writer, by a powerful sympathy, communicates itself to 
the written composition ; and while that of Paul is abrupt 
and vehement, like the soul of its author, that of John seems 
to express, in its very words and combinations, his af- 
fectionate disposition. 

The apostle Paul, in particular, is a fortunate instance, 
to show the importance of attending to the peculiarities of 
individual writers. Peculiarities — whatever cause they 
may have arisen from — may be discovered in his writings, 
in the use even of single words. For instance, the word, 
katargein, signifying to remove, destroy, kill, make free, 
is very seldom found in any Greek classick author, but is 
found twenty six times in the apostle's writings ; only once 
in all the other books of the New Testament. 

St. Paul has sometimes employed such words, as he foun4 



CHARACTERISTICKS OF LANGUAGES. 167 

used in common conversation, and which, although not un- 
frequent in common discourse, WGuld have hardly been con- 
sidered admissible in classical writers, certainly not in the 
sense, in which he employs them. The word, exousia, (1 
Cor. xi. 10,) primarily means power, dignity, &c ; but ap- 
pears, by a fashion, which sometimes exists in language no 
less than in dress and in manners, to have been in the city 
of Corinth, the name of a woman's head-dress, which was 
worn, at the time of writing the Epistle to the Corinthians, 
in that city. There is no reason to think, that it is used 
in this sense by any other w T riter, either of the pure Greek,, 
or of tlie Hebrastick. When, therefore, we learn in re- 
gard to the apostle Paul, that he was brought up in the 
doctrines of the Pharisees, that he afterwards embraced 
the christian religion, that he was driven from place to 
place, and resided in many cities, in Rome, in Ephesus, 
and particularly Corinth, that he was a person of great 
boldness, decision, and enterprise ; a knowledge of these 
circumstances in his personal fortunes and character throws 
much light on his writings. 

Rule fourth ; — The views, which have been given, lead 
us to remark, as another and fourth rule, that the interpre- 
ter should possess an intimate acquaintance with the par- 
ticular subject, on which his author treats; — and not only 
this, should endeavour fully to possess himself of the spirit 
of the particular species of writing, of which the tract to 
be interpreted is a specimen, whether it be poetry, the 
style of essays, of mathematical treatises, of history, or of 
philosophy. 

Nothing is more clear^than that the human mind, when 
called into exercise, will be differently affected according 
to the nature of that particular subject, to which its atten- 
tion is directed. It will be characterized by calm reflec- 
tions on the more intimate nature or the philosophy of cre- 
ated things ; or will be thrown into a series of closely con- 
catenated propositions ; or will be animated by a creative 
power and form thousands of new and glowing images ; or 
will be excited by strong and declamatory impulses ac- 
cording to the characteristic* tendencies of the exercise, 



168 CHARACTERISTIC'S OF LANGUAGES. 

about which it is employed. The interpreter cannot dd 
him justice without having his own mind brought into a sim- 
ilar position with the original author's ; and in order to this, 
he must be acquainted not only with the subject of the par- 
ticular writing in question, but also with the characteristicks 
and spirit of that species of writing, to which it belongs. 
It would be presumption, not to say injustice in a mathe- 
matician, who had exclusively devoted himself to his chos- 
en science,to undertake to pass sentence on the productions 
of a poet ; those mental tendencies and that state of mind, 
which are adapted to the last mentioned department of lit- 
erature, not being fitted to, the former. It would be no 
less presumption and injustice for a mere painter to as- 
sume the criticism of musical compositions, or for a mere 
man of polite letters to attempt the interpretation of the 
writings and an estimation of the character of mathema- 
ticians. " 

Note. It may seem to be a proper place here, to men-* 
tion a peculiar difficulty in the interpretation of the Bible, 
arising from the nature of the subjects there treated of. 
Revelation is a communication of those things, which could 
not have been fully learnt, and some of them could not 
have been learnt in any degree, by our unassisted faculties. 
It is a declaration of such facts, as eye hath not seen, and 
ear hath not heard. 

As, therefore, we derive our ideas from sensation and 
from what takes place in our own minds, it ought not to 
surprise us, that our weak and limited understandings are 
incapable of forming a perfect conception of God, of an- 
gels, of spiritual bodies, of the soul being brought to judg- 
ment, of the resurrection from the dead, &c. The words, 
which are employed on these subjects, are not without 
meaning, but such is the nature of the things signified by 
the words, that the meaning of them is often necessarily 
obscure to us ; and we here find a favourable opportunity 
both for the exercise of that religious feeling, which is 
termed faith, as to the things themselves, and also for the 
exercise of charity, when our own interpretations do not 
agree with those of any Of our erring fellow beings. 



169 
CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 



PRINCIPLES OP MENTAL ASSOCIATION; 



§. 150. Of the meaning of mental association and of 
its general principles or laws. 

Our thoughts and feelings follow each other in a regu- 
lar train. Of this statement no one needs any other proof, 
than his individual experience ; — we all know, not only, 
that our minds are susceptible of new states, but what is 
more, that this capability of new states is not fortuitous, 
but has its laws. Therefore, we not only say, that our 
thoughts and feelings succeed each other, but that this an- 
tecedence and sequence is in a regular train ; — a circum- 
stance in our intellectual economy, which, it may be just 
observed, has the most direct and important bearing on our 
preservation and happiness. To this regular and estab- 
lished consecution of the states of the mind we give the 
name of mental association. 

The term, association, is perhaps preferable to any oth- 
er. It may, with no little appearance of reason, be object- 
ed to the word, suggestion, which has sometimes been em- 
ployed, that it seems to imply a positive power or efficien- 
cy of the preceding state of the mind in producing the 
subsequent. But of the existence of such an efficiency 
we have no evidence. All that we know is the fact, that 
our thoughts and feelings, under certain circumstances, ap- 
pear together and keep each other company ; — And this is 
what is understood to be expressed, and is all, that is ex- 
pressed, by the term, association. 

By the principles or laws of association, we mean no 
other, than the general designation of those circumstances* 
under which the regular consecution of mental states, 
which has been mentioned, occurs. The following may 
be mentioned as among the primary principles of asso- 
ciation, although it is not necessary to tako upon us to as-^ 
sert, either that the enumeration is complete, or that some 

22 



170 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

better arrangement of these laws might not be proposed, 
—viz. resemblance, contrasTj contiguity in time and 
place, and cause and effect. 

$. 151. Resemblance the first general principle of 
association. 

New trains of ideas and new emotions are occasioned 
r resemblance ; but when we say, that they are occasion- 
ed in this way, all that is meant is, that there is a new state 
of mind, immediately subsequent to the perception of the 
resembling object. Of the efficient cause of this new state 
of mind under these circumstances, we can only say, the 
Creator of the soul has seen fit to appoint this connection 
in its operations, without our being able, or deeming it 
necessary to give any further explanation. A traveller, 
wandering in a foreign land, finds himself in the course of 
his sojournings in the midst of aspects of nature not un- 
like those, where he has formerly resided, and the fact of 
this resemblance becomes the antecedent to new states of 
mind; — there is distinctly brought before him the scenery, 
which he has left, his own woods, his waters, and his home. 
The result is the same in any other case, whenever there is 
a resemblance between what we now experience, and 
what we have previously experienced. We have been 
acquainted, for instance, at some former period with a per- 
son, whose features appeared to us to possess some pecu- 
liarity, a breadth and openness of the forehead, an uncom- 
mon expression of the eye, or some other striking mark ; — 
to-day we meet a stranger in the crowd, by which we are 
surrounded, whose features are of a somewhat similar cast, 
and the resemblance at once vividly suggests the likeness 
of our old acquaintance. 

$• 152. Resemblance in every particular not necessary. 

It is not necessary, that the resemblance should be 
complete in every particular, in order to its being a princi- 
ple or law of association. It so happens, for instance, that 
wc tee a painted portrait of a female countenance, which 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 171 

is adorned with a ruff of a peculiar breadth and display ; 
and we are, in consequence, immediately reminded of 
queen Elizabeth. Not because there is any resemblance 
between the features before us and those of the English 
sovereign, but because in all the painted representations, 
which we have seen of her, she is uniformly set off with 
this peculiarity of dress, with a ruff like that, which W3 
now see. Here the resemblance between the suggesting 
thing and that, which is suggested, is not a complete -re- 
semblance, does not exist in all the particulars, in which 
they may be compared together, but is limited to a part of 
the dress. 

That a single resembling circumstance, (and perhaps 
one of no great importance,) should so readily suggest th« 
complete conception of another object or scene, which is 
made up of a great variety of parts, seems to admit of som3 
explanation in this way. We take, for example, an indi- 
vidual; — the idea, which we form of the individual is a 
complex one, made up of the forehead, eyes, lips, hair, gen- 
eral figure, dress, &c. These separate, subordinate ideas, 
when combined together, and viewed as a whole, hava a 
near analogy to any of our ideas, which are compounded 
and are capable of being resolved into elements more sin> 
pie. When, therefore, we witness a ruff of a size and 
decoration more than ordinary, we are at once reminded 
of that ornament in the habiliments of the British queen ; 
and this on the ground of resemblance. But this article 
in the decorations of her person is the foundation of only 
one part of a very complex state of mind, which embraces 
the features and the general appearance. As there has 
been a long continued co-existence of those separate parts, 
w&ich make up this complex state, the recurrence to the 
mind of one part or of one idea is necessarily attended 
with the recurrence of all the others. They sustain the re* 
lation of near friends ; they form a group, and do not easi- 
ly and willingly admit of a separation. The principle, 
which maintains in the relation of co-existence such state* 
of the mind, as may be considered as grouped together, is 
the same with that, whieh so steadily and permanently 



172 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

combines the parts of mixed modes or other complex ideas, 
and is no less effectual in its operation. What this prin- 
ciple is will more fully appear from remarks, shortly to be 
made, on contiguity in time and place. 

§. 153. Of resemblance in the effects produced* 

Resemblance operates, as an associating principle, not 
only when there is a likeness or similarity in the things 
themselves, but also when there is a resemblance in the 
effects, which are produced upon the mind. 

The ocean, when greatly agitated by the winds, and 
threatening every moment to overwhelm us, produces in 
the mind an emotion, similar to that, which is caused by 
the presence of an angry man, who is able to do us harm. 
And in consequence of this similarity in the effects produ- 
ced, they reciprocally bring each other to our recollec- 
tion. 

Dark woods, hanging over the brow of a mountain, 
cause in us a feeling of awe and wonder, like that, which 
we feel, when we behold, approaching us, some aged per- 
son, whose form is venerable for his years, and whose name 
is renowned for wisdom and justice. It is in reference to 
this view of the principle, on which we are remarking, that 
the following comparison is introduced in Akenside's 
Pleasures of the Imagination. 

" Mark the sable woods, 

,{ That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow ; 

ft With what religious awe the solemn scene 

" Commands your steps ! As if the reverend form 

u , Of Minos or of filuma should forsake 

" The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade 

" Move to your pausing eye." 

As we are so constituted, that all nature produces in us 
certain effects, causes certain emotions, similar to those, 
which are caused in us in our intercourse with our fellow- 
beings, it so happens that, in virtue of this fact, the natur- 
al world becomes living, animated, operative. The ocean 
is in anger ; the sky smiles ; the cliff frowns-, the aged woods 
are venerable ; the earth and its productions are no longer 
a dead mass, but have an existence, a soul, an agency. 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 173 

We see here the foundation of metaphorical language ; 
and it is here, that we are to look for the principles, by 
which we are to determine the propriety or impropriety of 
its use. 

In every metaphor there is some analogy or resem- 
blance ; it is a comparison or simile in its most concise 
form. There is an examination instituted and circumstan- 
ces of similitude are detected ; not, however, by a long and 
laborious process, but in a single word. Hence it is the 
language of strong emotion; and as such, is peculiarly the 
language of uncivilized nations, and, in general, of the 
most spirited parts of the poetry of those, that are civilized. 

§. 154. Resemblances in sounds ; alliteration, &c. 

Our states of mind are associated, one with another, not 
merely by resemblances existing in the external and visible 
appearances of things, to which those states or ideas cor- 
respond ; nor is the fact of their association limited to re- 
semblances in the effects resulting from them ; they may 
also be associated by similitudes of various degrees in the 
words, which are appointed, as their signs. Sounds, which 
in a similar manner impress the organ of hearing, recipro- 
cally suggest each other ; and this is especially true of 
words, whether they convey the same or similar meaning, 
or not._ Thus, it is not impossible, that powders may sug- 
gest patches, and billets-doux may be associated with Bi- 
bles, not because there is any resemblance in the things, 
between powders and patches, billets-doux and Bibles, but 
because the words begin with the same letters, and there 
is, consequently, a slight resemblance in the sounds. It 
is evidently in consequence of the operation of association 
in this manner, that we find these very things brought to- 
gether in a line of Pope's Rape of the Lock ; 

"Puffs, powders, patches, Bibles, billets-doux." 

This is an instance of what is termed alliteration, an 
artifice in poetical style, which is not unfrequently employ- 
ed, and sometimes with good effect. 

Alliteration, if the meaning of the term be not al- 



174 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

ready quite familiar, is the repetition of the same letter at 
the beginning of different words or any emphatick part of 
the same word, at certain short intervals. The following, 
in addition to the one already given, are instances of this 
practice. 

" Up the high h\\\ he leaves a huge round stone." Pope. 

" *Soon be soothed the soul to pleasures." Dryden. 

" To ftigh-born HoeYs harp, or soft Z.ZeweZZyn's Zay." Gray. 

The poet often finds himself prodigally furnished with 
words, which would be suitable for alliterations. And 
his richness in such terms can be ascribed to nothing else, 
than the faculty of association, operating in the manner 
described ; — with this additional circumstance in the case 
of the poet, that the operation is quickened and made more 
effectual, by his practice of seeking for words, which have 
a similarity of termination. It is possible, that the fre- 
quency of the recurrence of such terms operates, as a 
temptation to the poetical writer to employ them and to 
form stanzas, containing alliteration, more frequently than he 
ought to. Whatever may be the difference of opinion as 
to the positive merit or want of merit in this species of or- 
nament, all readily admit, that its value cannot be account- 
ed great. It is, therefore, to be employed with caution, 
and suits better on slight occasions and in subjects of no 
very serious import, than in those of a solemn and impor- 
tant nature. 

Its good results may, for the most part, be summed up 
in these particulars ; — (1) It sometimes affords us pleasure 
by reminding us of the power of the writer, who is able to 
express his meaning not only under the restraints of rhyme, 
but of those additional shackles, which alliteration so ev- 
idently imposes. — (2) Sometimes the meaning is more 
strongly expressed, than it could possibly be without allit- 
eration, as in this instance ; 

" Up the /tigh h\\\ he leaves a huge, round sfone." 

The same might be shown in many other cases, especi- 
ally in those, where the poet tries to imitate, which he 
sometimes does, by the structure and sound of his verses 
the thing, which he describes. — (3) As a rough stanza at 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 175 

times is thought to be no defect, but rather the contrary, 
because it improves the others by contrast ; so lines, with 
alliterations, which are imagined to fail on the other hand 
or by excess of harmony, may break in upon the oftentimes 
monotonous sameness of poetick numbers, and improve the 
general aspect of the piece for the same reason, as the 
stanzas, that are inordinately deficient in smoothness. 

§. 155. Contrast the second general or primary principle. 

Contrast is another principle, by which our succes- 
sive mental states are suggested ; or, in other terms, when 
there are two objects, or events, or situations of a charac- 
ter precisely opposite, the idea or conception of one is im- 
mediately followed by that of the other. When the dis- 
course is of the palace of the king, how often are we re- 
minded, in the same breath, of the cottage of the peasant ! 
And thus wealth and poverty, the cradle and the grave, 
hope and despair are found in publick speeches and in dec- 
lamations from the pulpit almost always going together 
and keeping each other company. The truth is, they are 
connected together in our thoughts by a distinct and ope- 
rative principle ; they accompany each other, not because 
there is any resemblance in the things thus associated, but 
in consequence of their very marked contrariety. Dark- 
ness reminds of light, heat of cold, friendship of enmity ; 
the sight of the conqueror is associated with the memory 
of the conquered, and when beholding men of deformed 
and dwarfish appearance,we are at once led to think of those 
of erect figure or of Patagonian size. Contrast, then, is no 
less a principle or law of association,than resemblance itself. 

In those writers, who describe human action and suf- 
fering, and who make it a point to be true to nature, we 
have illustrations of the operations of this principle. In 
the memoir of the captivity of Mrs. Johnson, one of those 
deeply interesting sketches, which acquaint us with the 
sufferings of the early settlers of this country, and which are 
worthy of being read in as much as they teach us the worth 
of that peace and prosperity, which are now enjoyed, and the 



176 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

amount of toil and suffering, which purchased them, we 
find the following instance of the power of this law of our 
constitution. — "After my feelings were a little quickened 
by warmth, my sad portion was brought me, consisting of 
the duck's head and a gill of broth. As I lifted the unsa- 
voury morsel with a trembling hand to my mouth, I cast 
my thoughts back a few days to a time, when from a board 
plentifully spread in my own house, I ate my food with a 
merry heart. The wooden spoon dropped from my feeble 
hand. The contrast was too affecting." 

There is a little book entitled the leper of Aost, trans- 
lated from the French of Lemaistre, and although we can 
pretend to no acquaintance with the character or writings 
of the author further than can be inferred from this speci- 
men, we cannot doubt, that a tract of so much interest on 
such a subject must have come from a mind of no ordinary 
qualities. The book is mentioned here in consequence of 

Note. The subject of those states of mind, which are called apparitions 
as will be seen by those, who consult that chapter, is left imperfect. The facts, 
which have been hitherto collected, are so few in number, as hardly to justify U3 
in laying down general principles and offering solutions with much confidence. 
In the above-mentioned book, the leper of Aost, there are statements of intellec- 
tual operations, which agree with what is said in the chapter on apparitions, and 
illustrate the remarks there made. The writer represents the leper's mind to 
be partially affected by the sufferings of the body and to have become altered from 
what it was. But these strange states of mental alienation occur chiefly in 
the night, when he is reposing on his pillow, but he tells us, they are not 
dreams, neither is he asleep. The statement admits of being compared in par- 
ticular with {. 96 and 97. " I yield (says the leper) to extraordinary impressions, 
which I feel only in these unhappy moments. Sometimes it is, as if an irresisti- 
ble power were dragging me to a fathomless abyss. Sometimes I see nothing but 
bleak forms ; when I endeavour to examine them, they cross each other with the 
rapidity of lightning, increase in approaching, and soon are like mountains, 
which crush me under their weight. At other times, I see dark clouds rise 
from the earth around mc ; they come over me like an inundation, which in- 
creases, advances, and threatens to ingulf me • and when I try lo rise in order to 
free myself fromthese dreadful images, it seems as if I were retained by invisible 
ties, which enchain all my powers. You will perhaps believe this to be mere- 
ly dreams ; but I am not sleeping. I see always the same objects, and those hor- 
rible sensations exceed all my other sensations." Leper of Aost, p. 17. 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 177 

its philosophical truth in illustrating the effects of the prin- 
ciple of association now under consideration. Like all 
persons, affected with the leprosy, the subject of the dis- 
ease is represented as an object of dread no less than of 
pity to others, and while he is an outcast from the society of 
men, he is a loathsome spectacle even to himself. But what 
is the condition of his mind 1 What are the subjects of his 
thoughts? The tendencies of his intellectual nature prevent 
his thinking of wretchedness alone. His extreme mis- 
ery aggravates itself by suggesting scenes of ideal happi- 
ness, and his mind revels in a paradise of delights, merely 
to give greater intensity to his actual woes by contrasting 
them with imaginary bliss. — " I represent to myself contin- 
ually (says the Leper) . societies of sincere and virtuous 
friends ; families, blessed with health, fortune, and harmo- 
n) r . I imagine, I see them walk in groves, greener and 
fresher, than these, the shade of which makes my poor 
happiness ; brightened by a sun more brilliant, than that, 
which sheds its beams on me ; — And their destiny seems to 
me as much more worthy of envy, in proportion as my own 
is the more miserable.'* 

§. 156. Practical and moral applications of this principle. 

The remarks made in the preceding section on the 
leper of Aost, naturally lead us to offer some brief obser- 
vations on the practical and moral results of this law of 
association. 

First ; — It operates as a powerful incitement to action, 
and may, therefore, in this respect be said to have a prac- 
tical application. — A person finds himself poor, unknown, 
unhonoured. He is fully sensible of the position, which he 
holds, and it is a source of mortification and grief. But 
while he is deeply sensible of his poverty, obscurity, and 
want of influence, the busy interference of this law of his 
mental constitution constantly brings up in his mind the 
ideas of wealth, of honour, and of notoriety. As gilded 
edifices, although equally distant, appear nearer, than those 
of a less splendid exterior ; so when the mind paints before 

23 



178 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL. ASSOCIATION. 

us bright images of future good, we think them almost 
within our grasp, because we so distinctly behold them. 
As, therefore, the principle of contrast suggests to us some 
future happiness, when we are sensible, that our present 
condition and enjoyment are below what they might and 
should be, it may fairly be laid down among its good, prac- 
tical results, that it furnishes us with an- incitement to exer- 
tion. And the more so, as the views, which it presents to 
the mind, are generally distinct, and their influence will, of 
consequence, be proportionally augmented. 

Second ; — It may be considered as one of the moral re- 
sults of this principle, that it operates as a source of hap- 
piness to us, whenever those objects, which we have any 
length of time been in pursuit of, are obtained. The prin- 
ciple of contrast leads us back to what we were before \ 
we look down from our present circumstances as from a 
height, and the altitude, which we now occupy, seems to- 
be increased, by the recollection of our former depres- 
sions. 

Third ; — Let it be remarked further, that conscience 
owes a great part of the power, which it is able to exercise 
over the wicked, to this principle. It is from a knowledge 
of its tendencies, that solitary confinements have been so 
strongly recommended in publick penitentiaries. Separate 
the prisoner from his associates, leave his thoughts to fol- 
low each other as nature prompts, and what will be the 
subjects of them % He will think of what he once was, 
and compare it with what he now is. He will place side 
by side a good name with a bad one, the charms of virtue 
with the deformities of vice, honour and dishonour, wretch- 
edness and bliss, till the agitations of his own bosom, the 
lashes of his own conscience become far more terrible than T 
chains, or any species of corporeal inflictions. 

But it will be said, does not this principle of the mind 
operate in the game way in respect to the good, when they 
have been unfortunate ? It undoubtedly does. They think, 
and cannot do otherwise, of their former prosperity ; and 
their present ill success and depression appears the greater 
in consequence of such remembrances. But happily they 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 179 

■are supported by a consciousness of rectitude under what 
?might be otherwise insupportable. It is a remark of Gold- 
smith, expressed in his happy manner, that one of the no- 
blest objects in the universe is a good man, struggling with 
adversity. 

<§. 157. This principle of association the foundation of 
antithesis. 
In writers of acknowledged taste and discernment, we 
find the rhetorical figure of antithesis employed, which is 
the placing of two objects or ideas in opposition. The 
fact, that such writers occasionally employ this figure 
might lead us to suppose, (which is the truth,) that it has 
its foundation in the human mind, viz. in the principle of 
association, to which we give the name of contrast. In 
one of the tragedies of Southern we find certain expres- 
sions, which are here introduced not only in illustration of 
:the general principle, but as happily exemplifying some re- 
marks in the preceding section. 



Could I forget 



" What I have been, I might the better bear 

" What I am destined to. I am not the first, 

> £ That have been wretched ; — But to think how much 

" I have been happier. 

Here the present is placed in opposition with the past, 
and happiness is contrasted with misery ; not by a cold 
and strained artifice, but by the natural impulses of the 
mind, which is led to associate together things, that are 
the reverse of each other. I say not by a cold artifice 
but naturally ;— for what man ever was there, or can be, 
that has been cast down from the heights of fortune, wheth- 
er it have happened with his guilt or his innocence, and 
does not most readily and unavoidably look back from 
his present depressed condition to his former prosperities ? 

In the poem of the Pleasures of Hope there is this 
passage. 

" Yet at thy call the hardy tar pursued, 
" Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued. 

&s paleness is an appearance of the countenance, which 



180 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

is sometimes understood to indicate fear or cowardice, 
there is occasion given to mention the opposite ; the mind 
naturally thinks of it. A similar remark will apply to the 
last clause of the stanza, and the whole passage is one of 
great ease and beauty, besides being spirited. 

The often repeated eulogium of Mr. Burke on the phi- 
lanthropick Howard is a fine instance of this figure, and 
shows to what good purpose it may be applied on suita- 
ble occasions by persons of genius. — "He has visited all 
Europe, — not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or 
the stateliness of temples ; not to make accurate measure- 
ments of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a 
scale of the curiosity of modern arts, nor to collect med- 
als or collate manuscripts ; — but to dive into the depths of 
dungeons ; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to 
survey the. mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the guage 
and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt, to 
remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit 
the forsaken, and compare and collate the distresses of all 
men in all countries." — This figure of rhetorick, therefore, 
being fou nded in our mental constitution, is sometimes em- 
ployed with success, but whenever there is such frequency 
in the use of it, as to betray artifice rather than natural 
emotion, it loses its effect, and becomes a vice rather than 
an excellence in style. 

Antithesis is frequently employed, and to very good 
purpose, in short, moral sayings, and in any writings what- 
ever, which purposely adopt the concise and emphatick 
method of aphorisms. It is a great object with writers of 
this kind to have their sayings remembered. In throwing 
them into the form of antitheses, they afford great help to 
the memory, because when one part of the aphoristick sen- 
tence is known, the power of association, operating by the 
principle Or law of contrast, immediately calls up the con- 
trasted or parallel part of it. 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 181 

§, 158. Contiguity the third general or primary principle. 

Those thoughts and feelings, which have been connect- 
ed together by nearness of time and place, are readily 
suggested by each other ; and, consequently, contiguity in 
those respects is rightly reckoned, as another and third pri- 
mary principle of our mental associations. When we think 
of Palestine, for instance, we very readily and naturally 
think of the Jewish nation, of the patriarchs, of the proph- 
ets, of the Saviour, and of the apostles, because Palestine 
was their place of residence, and the theatre of their ac- 
tions. So that this is evidently an instance, where the 
suggestions are chiefly regulated by proximity of place. 
When a variety of acts and events have happened nearly 
at the same period, whether in the same place or not, one 
is not thought of without the others being closely associa- 
ted with it, owing to proximity of time ; — ¥/hen, therefore, 
the particular event of the crucifixion of the Saviour is 
mentioned, we are necessarily led to think of various other 
events, which occurred about the same period, such as the 
treacherous conspiracy of Judas, the denial of Peter, the 
conduct of the Roman soldiery, the rending of the veil of 
the temple, and the temporary obscuration of the sun. 

The mention of Egypt suggests the Nile, the Pyramids, 
Caesar, Cleopatra, the battle of Aboukir. The naming of 
the American revolution immediately fills the mind with 
recollections of Washington, Greene, and many of their 
associates,. whose fortune it was to enlist their exertions 
in behalf of freedom in the same country and at the same 
period. 

The following passage from captain King's continuation 
of Cooke's last voyage furnishes a remarkable example of 
the operations of this principle ; — '- While we were at din- 
ner in this miserable hut, on the banks of the river, Awats- 
ka, and the guests of a people, with whose existence we 
had before been scarce acquainted, and at the extremity 
of the habitable globe, a solitary, half-worn, pewter spoon, 
whose shape was familiar to us attracted our attention ; 
and, on examination, we found it stamped on the back with 



182 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

the word, London. I cannot pass over this circumstance 
in silence out of gratitude for the many pleasant thoughts, 
the anxious hopes, and tender remembrances it excited in 
us. Those, who have experienced the effects, that long 
absence, and extreme distance from their native country, 
produce in the mind, will readily conceive the pleasure 
such a trifling incident can give."-^-The beauty of this il- 
lustration consists not so much in the city or place having 
been suggested in consequence of their seeing its name 
impressed on the pewter spoon, although this may be sup- 
posed to have happened on the principle of contiguity, as 
in the circumstance, that such a multitude of other pleasing 
recollections thronged around the memory of that place. 
When they thought of London, they thought of their 
homes, — they thought of the inmates of those homes, — 
they thought of a thousand incidents, which they had 
there witnessed ; — a striking illustration of the degree of 
importance, which may be accumulated on the most tri- 
vial circumstance, when that circumstance can be made 
to connect itself effectually with any general principles of 
our mental constitution. 

That, which we have set down, as the third general law 
of mental association, is more extensive in its influence 
than any others. It has been remarked with truth, that 
proximity in time and place forms the whole calendar of 
the great mass of mankind. They pay but little attention 
to the arbitrary eras of chronology ; but date events by 
each other, and speak of what happened at the time of 
some dark day, or of some great eclypse, or of some war or 
revolution, or when one neighbour built a house, or another 
lost a child. The practice of associating a considerable 
number of facts with some place, or with some event too 
prominent and wonderful to be easily forgotten, is the 
great and almost the only instrument, which the mass of 
people employ in retaining the multitude of particulars of a 
personal or local nature. 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 183 

v §. 159. Cause and effect the fourth primary principle. 

There are certain facts or events, which hold to each 
other the relation of invariable antecedence and sequence. 
That fact or event, to which some other one sustains the 
relation of constant antecedence, is in general called an ef- 
fect; — And that fact or event, to which some other one 
holds the relation of invariable sequence, has in general 
the name of a cause. Now there may be no resemblance 
in the things, which reciprocally bear this relation, there 
may be no contrariety, and it is by no means necessary, that 
there should be contiguity in time or place, as the meaning 
of the term, contiguity, is commonly understood. There 
may be cause and effect without any one or all of these 
circumstances. But it is a fact, which is known to every 
one's experience, that when we think of the cause in any 
particular instance, we naturally think of the effect, and, on 
the contrary, the knowledge or recollection of the effect 
brings to mind the cause ; — And in view of this well-known 
and general experience, there is good reason for reckoning 
cause and effect among the general principles of our 
mental associations. What we here understand by prin- 
ciples or laws will be recollected, viz. The general designa- 
tion of those circumstances, under which the regular con- 
secution of mental states occurs. 

It is on the principle of cause and effect, that when we 
see a surgical instrument or any engine of torture, we have 
an idea of the pain, which they are fitted to occasion, and 
for a moment are tempted to imagine, that we ourselves 
are partially the subjects of it. The sight of a wound, in- 
flicted however long before, suggests to us the instrument, 
by which it was made. When we witness any of our fel- 
low beings in distress, we naturally think of the particular 
cause of it, if we know what it is ; and, if we are ignorant, 
we make it a subject of inquiry. When we have good news 
to communicate, we please ourselves with the thought of 
the joy, which it will occasion, and the bearer of afflictive 
tidings Cannot but anticipate the grief, which the annun- 
ciation of them will produce. 



184 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL. ASSOCIATION. 

§. 160. Secondary principles of mental association* 

There are a variety of circumstances, which modify and 
slightly control the influence of the general laws or prin- 
ciples of association, and these by way of distinction are 
called second AE.Y. They are as follows ; — 

(1) Our mental states will, in the first place, be more 
or less readily associated, according as they existed together 
for a greater or less length of time at first. Innumerable ob - 
jects pass before us, which but very slightly arrest our atten- 
tion ; & although a connection is formed among them by the 
general principles of association, the connection is weak 
and easily broken, and always of short duration. We can- 
not, therefore, in general rely on the future remembrance 
of objects, unless we feel so much interest in them, as to 
lead us to dwell on them for some time. — (2) The pro- 
bability of our mental states being associated by the gene- 
ral principles, will depend in some measure, secondly, on 
the character of the original feelings, and will be greater 
or less, according as those feelings were more or less lively. 
Bright objects are more readily recalled, than faint or ob- 
scure ; also great joys and sorrows, while the many slight 
pleasures and pains, which are constantly occurring, are 
almost instantly forgotten. 

(3) The parts of any mental train are the more readily 
suggested, thirdly, in proportion as they have been the 
more frequently renewed. Having read a sentence a number 
of times, we find ourselves able to repeat it out of book, 
which we could not do with merely reading it once. 

(4) In the fourth place, our trains of thought and emotions 
will be found to be more or less strongly connected, ac- 
cording as they are more or less recent. We remember 
many incidents, even of a trifling nature, which occurred 
to-day or the present week, while those of yesterday or of 
last week are forgotten. There is an exception to this law, 
which should be mentioned. The associated feelings of 
old men, which were formed in their youth and the early 
part of manhood, are more readily revived, than those of 
later origin. This point will be further remarked on in 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION* 1&5 

the chapter on memory. This exception, however, it may 
be observed here, does not hold universally, even in the 
case of extreme age. The general rule holds, when 
the time is not extended far back, Events, which happen- 
ed but a few hours before, are remembered, while there isi 
an utter forgetfuiness of those, which happened a few 
weeks or even days before. 

(5) Our feelings, in the fifth place, are associated more 
strongly, as each has coexisted less with other feelings. 
When we have heard a song but from one person, it can 
scarcely be heard by us again without recalling that per- 
son to our memory. If we have heard the same words and 
air frequently sung by others, there is much less chance of 
this particular suggestion. 

(6) The primary or general laws of association are modi- 
fied, in the sixth place, by. diversities in temper aad disposi- 
tion. — In the minds of two persons, the one of a cheerful, 
the other of a gloomy disposition, the trains of thought will 
be very different. This difference is finely illustrated in 
those beautiful poems of Milton, l' allegro and il pense- 
roso. 1/ allegro or the cheerful man finds pleasure and 
cheerfulness in every object, which he beholds ; — The 
great sun puts on his amber light, the mower whets his 
scythe, the milk-maid sings, 

" And every shepherd tells his tale 
" Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

But the man of a melancholy disposition, il penseroso, 
chooses the evening for his walk, as most suitable to the 
temper of his mind ; he listens from some lonely hillock to 
the distant curfew, and loves to hear the song of that 
" sweet bird, 

— —That shun'st the noise of folly, 
" Most musical, most melancholy. 

Etorther ;— Our trains of suggested thoughts will be 
modified by those temporary feelings, which may be re- 
garded, as exceptions to the more general character of our 
dispositions. The cheerful man is not always cheerful, nor 
is the melancholy man at all times equally sober and con- 
templative. They are known to exchange characters for 
24 



186 PRINCIPLES CF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

whole days together, sometimes in consequence of good or 
ill health, or of happy or adverse fortune, and sometimes 
for causes, which cannot be easily explained. So that our 
mental states will be found to follow each other, with a 
succession, varying not only with thev general character of 
our temper and dispositions, but with the transitory emo- 
tions of the day or hour. 

(7) The trains of our suggestions are modified, in the 
seventh place, by our particular pursuit or profession in 
life. — When men of different pursuits or professions read a 
book, or hear a' story, it will be seen, that they associate 
very -different ideas with what they hear or read. If a trav- 
eller happens iii their company, the man of letters imme- 
diately inquires what new works are about to be published 
in his. country ; the merchant is anxious to hear of the 
price of wheat or iron ; the soldiei insists on knowing, who 
is to take the place of the general or field-marshal lately 
displaced ; and the politician requests an explanation of 
the late manifesto, or to be informed of the articles of the 
new constitution. 

(8) The general or primary principles, by which our 
thoughts are connected together, are modified, eighthly, 
by an additional circumstance of so much influence, as to 
entitle it to be reckoned among the secondary laws of as- 
sociation ; viz. constitutional differences in mental character. 
— Whether the origin of such differences, is to be referred 
to the mind itself, or to varieties in bodily temperament, 
is not necessary for our present purpose to be inquired 
into. Admitting the existence of such original diversities, 
we may suppose them, in the first place, to have the effect 
either of limiting and weakening, or of extending and aug- 
menting the power of all the primary laws of association. 
In other words, they have a general influence, either favour- 
able or unfavourable. The great varieties, in the power 
of remembering, which are so often observed, may be at- 
tributed chiefly to this secondary law, and to that form of 
its influence, which has just been supposed, and is a proof 
©f the correctness of the supposition. — But original, con- 
etitutional differences sometimes modify the influence of 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION-. 187 

the four general and primary laws of association in another 
and less impartial way ; viz. by giving greater strength to 
one set of associations, than to another. Thus, — the men- 
tal associations, which are formed and sustained on the 
principle of resemblance or analogy, constitute one class ; 
those, which are connected by the law of contiguity form 
another ; and here it is, that we mark a distinction in the 
mental operations of men, which we think must be ascrib- 
ed to original diversities in the intellectual organization. 
In one mind, for instance, the associations, which are rank- 
ed under one of these classes, are easily and readily, sug- 
gested ; the other class of associations is not ; — but ob- 
serve another person, in whom there is, as we contend, a 
constitutional difference, and we find, that it is just the re- 
verse, and the class of associations, which, in the first 
instance, were easily suggested, are, in the latter case, sug- 
gested with great difficulty. One mind perceives ,the re- 
semblances of objects, whether more or less obvious, and 
their relations of cause and effect; another mind of a dif- 
ferent constitution observes only their contiguity in time 
and place. The fact is undeniable ; and the solution, 
which we propose, as on the whole the least exceptionable, 
is, that there are in men certain natural differences attri- 
butable originally either to the mind exclusively, or to 
the influence of the physical system over the mind, or 
to both. 

The laws of association may here properly be given in 
a condensed view, as follows. The general principles or 
laws of association, which are sometimes called the prima- 
ry laws, are these, resemblance, contrast, contiguity in 
time and place, and cause and effect. — The secondary 
laws of association, which give such great variety to the 
results of the .primary principles, are these — (1) Differen- 
ces in the length of time of the co-ex^tence of the associ- 
ated feelings at first ; — (2) Their greater or less degree of 
liveliness;— (3) The frequency of their renewal ;— (4) The, 
circumstance of their being more or less recent ;■ — (5) The 
degree or extent of their co-existence with other feelings ; 
— (6) Diversities in temper and disposition; — (7) The 



IBB PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

influence of particular professions and pursuits ; — (8) Cer- 
tain constitutional differences in mental character. 

,§. 161. Genius nothing more than particular tendencies 
of association. 

Much has been said of genius. To those, who have 
been supposed to possess it, praise and admiration have 
been amply given, as if they were peculiary endowed. 
One man is said to have a genius for mathematicks, another 
for poetry ; and war also, and politicks, and mechanical 
employments have their geniuses. One hardly knows in 
what terms to convey an idea of it, and to do it concisely ; 
but the common definition has been this, — A talent or ap- 
titude given us by nature, in order to excel in any one 
thing whatever. Whoever has those qualities, which, 
when applied to some particular art or science, enable 
their possessor to excel in it, is commonly called a man of 
genius. 

Stated in other, and, as we conceive, in more philo- 
sophical language, genius is a constitutional tendency to 
form mental associations on the principles of resemblance, 
of contrast, and of cause and. EFFECT. 

Persons, who show a constitutional inclination to form 
associations on the principle of contiguity in time and 
place, have minds of a lower grade, and are wanting 
in those penetrating and effective qualities, which are im- 
plied in genius. They may be good neighbours and use- 
ful citizens, and are especially fitted to excel in the man- 
ual practice of the mechanical arts, but it is beyond their 
power to give new beauties to literature, or new truths to 
science ; and they seem to be inevitably destined to plod 
in the paths of humble imitation. 

Mention a forest or any wooded field to a man want- 
ing in genius, and He will be likely enough to think of an 
aged and leafless oak. The thought of it will occur on 
me principle or law of contiguity, and, consequently, is 
not, 4 beyond the ordinary range of his intellectual power. 
But the man of genius, as in the description of Pompey in 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 189 

the Pharsalia of Lucan, thinks with no less readiness of 
that aged and leafless oak, whenever he sees an old and 
heroick citizen, who stands forth amid the corruptions of 
his generation, the memorial of better times, and the prop 
of the commonwealth. But the thought occurs in the lat- 
ter case on a different principle, that of resemblance or a- 
nalogy. The former can become a poetical imitator, but 
the latter only can be the "gifted bard." 

A man of no genius might consistently with the law, 
by which his associations are chiefly regulated, think of 
meteors, when walking abroad on a cloudy and sultry 
night; but would by no means be likely to, on merely see- 
ing one of his aged neighbours with a long beard and 
hair floating in the wind. But how different are the as- 
sociations in the mind of the author of that sublime poem 

THE BARD ! 

*< Robed in ths sable garb of woe, 

•• With haggard eyes, the poet stood ; 

" Loose his beard, and hoary hair 

ft Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air. 

What, therefore, constitutes poetical genius, that intel- 
lectual peculiarity, which lays the foundation for a reputa- 
tion of that kind, is a constitutional tendency to connect 
together the states of mind in the way, which has been 
asserted. The subject will appear the clearer when look- 
ed at in connection with the remarks in the preceding 
section on the eighth secondary law of association. 

It is to be further observed, that philosophical genius 
is essentially the same with poetical. Men may be cal- 
led philosophers, because they have by great industry 
learnt the discoveries, which others have made, and the in- 
ventions, of which they have been the authors. They may 
imitate their predecessors ; they may employ the same 
means, which have been employed before, and come to the 
same results ; but learning and a high reputation do not 
necessarily imply genius ; so that, if they are philosophers, 
they are not philosophical geniuses. 

Genius implies a mind, that will pass from causes to ef- 
fects, and from effects to causes in cases, where it has not 
been taught by others ; that, with an almost intuitive read- 



190 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

iness, is able to draw a parallel between the qualities of 
objects, without being limited to the circumstances of time 
and place, and that can deduce important conclusions be- 
fore unknown from analogies in those things, which have 
come under its notice. 

But if the qualities of genius be originally the same, 
both in philosophy and poetry, it may be asked, how happens 
it, that men devote themselves to pursuits so different in 
their character and results ? The most obvious reply, is, 
that we are influenced by a great variety of circumstances, 
and are not unfrequently influenced by them, when we are 
ourselves not fully sensible of it ; — such as the mental 
character of those, with whom we associate, local scenery, 
natural disposition, climate, government, early reading, 
&c. These give a direction to those qualities, which con- 
stitute genius; and it happens : in this way, that of those 
persons, whose mental capabilities were originally the same, 
one gives himself to the science of laws, another to natur- 
al philosophy, another to poetry, another to some other of 
the fine arts. 

These views readily suggest an explanation of differ- 
ences in degrees or strength of genius. There may be a ten- 
dency in different individuals to form associations on laws, 
which involve the resemblances and nature of objects, rather 
than on the law of mere contiguity ; and this is the prominent 
circumstance in securing to them the character in question. 
But it does not follow, that it exists in the same degree 
and with the same strength in all. In some it is more, in 
others less. To a few the power of perceiving the analo- 
gies, and dissimilitudes, and general relations of things is 
exceedingly great ; — and it is to these alone that we can 
rightly give the credit of great geniuses, of being the ''lights 
of their age." 

Note. Genius in the philosophical sciences makes it- 
self known by inventions and discoveries. But there is a 
difference between the two. Mr. Stuart, in remarking on 
invention in the arts and sciences, draws a distinction be- 
tween inventions and discoveries which he supposes to be 
correct and well founded, and is peculiarly happy in his 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 



l^f 



illustrations. Rather than run the chance of a better op- 
portunity hereafter, we insert his remarks here. 

" Before we proceed, it may be proper (says Mr. Stuart) 
to take notice of the distinction between Invention and 
Discovery. The object of the former, as has been frequent- 
ly remarked, is to produce something which had no exis- 
tence before ; that of the latter, to bring to light something 
which did exist, but which was concealed from common 
observation. Thus we say, Otto Guerricke invented the 
air-pump; Sanctorius invented the thermometer; Newton 
and Gregory invented the reflecting telescope : Galileo dis- 
covered the solar spots ; and Harvey discovered the circu- 
lation of the blood. It appears, therefore, that improve- 
ments in the Arts are properly called inventions ; and that 
facts brought to light by means of observation, are prop- 
erly called discoveries. 

Agreeable to this analogy is the use which we make of 
these words, when we apply them to subjects purely intel- 
lectual. As truth is eternal and immutable, and has no 
dependence on our belief or disbelief of it, a person who 
brings to light a truth formerly unknown, is said to make a 
discovery. A person, on the other hand, who contrives a 
new method of discovering truth, is called an inventor. 
Pythagoras, we say, discovered the forty-seventh proposi- 
tion of Euclid's first book ; Newton discovered the binomial 
theorem : but he invented the method of prime and ultimate 
ratios ; and he invented the method of fluxions. 

In general, every advancement in knowledge is consid- 
ered as a discovery ; every contrivance by which we pro- 
duce an effect, or accomplish an end, is considered as an 
invention. Discoveries in ^science, therefore, unless they 
are made by accident, imply the exercise of invention ; and, 
accordingly, the word invention is commonly used to ex- 
press originality of genius in the sciences, as well as in 
the arts." 

<§. 162. Dependence of transitions in style on association. 

It requires skill rightly to manage the transitions in a 
discourse or poem, to conduct the hearer or reader from 



192 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

one topick to another without violence to his feelings, anct 
without injury to the natural order, clearness, and interest 
of the subject. No transitions seem to be admissible, but 
such as are suggested by association, either by the prima- 
ry laws alone, or as they are modified by the secondary 
laws. But when that power holds out a number of ways, 
in which the passing from one topick to another can be ef- 
fected, the writer has an opportunity to discover his skill 
in the selection. 

In Goldsmith's poem of the Traveller, the nature of the 
subject requires frequent transitions, and they are happily 
managed. In one part of his poem, he describes the 
descendants of the Romans in their state of effeminacy 
and debasement ; but how does it happen, that immedi- 
ately after he undertakes a description of the character 
of the Swiss ? In speaking of the present inhabitants of 
Italy, he sees hardly any thing but indications of indolence 
and luxury, — but little of vigour, of hardship, of ancient 
truth. He is led, therefore, by the principle of contrast, to 
think of conduct, characters, and situations directly the re- 
verse. To think, then, of the Swiss under such circum- 
stances seemed to be almost unavoidable ; 

" My soul turn from them— turn we to survey, 

" Where rougher climes a nobler race display, 

'' Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, 

'\ And force a churlish soil for scanty bread. 

§. 163. Of associations suggested by present objects of 
perception. 

Associated thoughts and emotions, when made to pass 
through the mind by some sound, which the ear has caught, 
by some object, which has met the eye, or by any present 
object of perception whatever, are vivid and strong. As- 
sociations, which do not admit any of our present percep- 
tions as a part of the associated train, cannot but impress 
us, as being in some measure airy and unsubstantial, how- 
ever distinct. We deeply feel, that they are a part of the 
experiences of departed days, and which, in departing from 
us, have become almost, as if they had never been. But 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 193 

lot them partake of our present experience, of what we 
now feel and know to exist, and they seem to gain new 
strength ; the remembrances are not only distinct, but 
what was airy and unsubstantial fades away, and they have 
Jife, and power, and form. 

How often, in the wanderings 6f life, are we led by 
some apparently accidental train of thought to the recol- 
lection of the residence of our early years and of the inci- 
dents, which then oecurred ! The associations are inter- 
esting, but we find it difficult to make them permanent, 
and they are comparatively faint. But let there be con- 
nected with that train of thought the present sound of 
some musical instrument, which we then used to hear, and 
of our favourite tune, and it will be found, that the reality 
of the tune blends itself with the airy conceptions of the 
mind, and, while we kindle with an illusive rapture, the 
whole seems to be real. Some illustrations may tend 
to make these statements more clear and to confirm them. 

It is related in one of the published Lectures of Dr. 
Rush, that an old native African was permitted by his mas- 
ter, a number of years since, to go from home in order to 
see a lion, that was conducted as a show through the state 
of New Jersey. He no sooner saw him, than he was so 
transported with joy, as to express his emotions by jump- 
ing, dancing, and loud acclamations, notwithstanding the 
torpid habits of mind and body, superinduced by half a 
century of slavery. He had known that animal, when a 
boy in his native country, and the sight of him suddenly 
revived the memory of his early enjoyments, his native 
land, his home, his associates, and his freedom. 

There is in the same writer another interesting instance 
of the power of association, in which he himself had a 
part, and which will be given in his own words. — " During 
the time I passed at a country-school, in Cecil County, in 
Maryland, I often went on a holiday, with my schoolmates, 
to see an eagle's nest, upon the summit of a dead tree in 
the neighbourhood of the school, during the time of the 
incubation of that bird. The daughter of the farmer, in 
25 



194 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

whose field this tree stood, and with whom I became ac- 
quainted, married, and settled in this city about forty years 
ago. In our occasional interviews, we now and then 
spoke of the innocent haunts and rural pleasures of our 
youth, and, among other things, of the eagle's nest in her 
iather's field. A few years ago, I was called to visit this 
woman when she was in the lowest stage of a typhus fever. 
Upon entering her room, I caught her eye, and, with a 
cheerful tone of voice, said only, The eagleh nest. She 
seized my hand, without being able to speak, and discov- 
ered strong emotions of pleasure in her countenance, 
probably from a sudden association of all her early domes- 
tick connexions and enjoyments with the words I had utter- 
ed. From that time she began to recover. She is now 
living, and seldom fails, when we meet, to salute me with 
the echo of the c eagle's nest.' " 

From such illustrations it would seem to be sufficient- 
ly clear, that, wheneve'r associated thoughts and emotions 
are connected with any present perceptions, they are pe- 
culiarly strong and vivid. They steal into all the secret 
chambers of the soul, and seemingly by some magick pow- 
er impart a deeper intensity to its feelings, and give to the 
shadowy world of memory the stability of real existence. 
There are two causes, why such associated feelings should 
possess more than ordinary strength and vividness. — (1) 
The particular train of thought and feeling, which is exci- 
ted in the mind, continues longer than in other cases, in 
consequence of the greater permanency and fixedness of 
tfce present objects of perception, which either suggested 
the train, or make a part of it. So long as the lion was 
permitted to remain in the sight of the aged African, so 
long without interruption was the series of delightful 
thoughts kept up within him. The bright images, which 
threw him into such raptures, and awoke stupidity itself, 
were not fleeting away with every breath, but remained 
permanent. 

The sick lady of Philadelphia saw the physician, with 
whom she had been acquainted in the early part of life. 
By mention of the eagle's nest, he vividly recalled the 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 195 

scenes of those young days. But it was the presence of 
the person, whose observation had given rise to the train of 
association, which contributed chiefly to keep it so long in 
her thoughts. Had it occurred merely from some acciden- 
tal direction of her own mind, without any present object, 
which had made a part of it, no doubt her sufferings or 
other circumstances would soon have banished it. 

(2) The second cause of the increased vividness of as- 
sociations, suggested by a present object of perception or 
combined with it, is this, viz. The reality of the thing per- 
ceived is communicated in the illusions of the moment to 
the thing suggested. — The trees of the desert were the 
hiding place'of the lion, when the African saw him in early 
life ; and now, after the lapse of so many years, he ima- 
gines, that, in the quickened eye of his mind, he beholds 
the forests of his native soil, because he has before him the 
proud and powerful animal, that crouched under their 
shade. And the presence of the monarch of the forest 
gives a reality not only to woods and deserts; but by a com- 
munication of that, which is real to that, which is merely 
suggested, the whole group of his early experiences, as 
well as the sight of the animal, which made a part, are re- 
vived, and have virtually a real, renew«d existence. 

These remarks may be properly applied to explain & 
recent, strong manifestation of feeling in a whole people* 
The citizens of the United States have a multitude of pa- 
triotick associations,connected with their revolutionary war. 
But those associations, owing to length of time, were by 
degrees growing dim on the minds of the aged, and made 
a still more diminished impression on those of the young. 
In the years 1824 — 5, La Fayette, the only surviving rev- 
olutionary officer of the grade of major-general, came on a 
visit to this country to see once more the people, for whom 
he had fought in his youth. All classes flocked to behold 
him, and to grasp his hand. Nothing could exceed the 
deep feeling, which existed from one part of the republick 
to the other. But it was not the individual merely,|how- 
ever strongly the people were attached to him, that awoke 
such a happy and lofty enthusiasm. All the events and all 



196 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

the characters of the revolution exist to the present genera- 
tion in associated states of the mind, and, as La Fayette 
had long formed a part in those ideal associations, when 
we were so fortunate, as to see him with our own eyes and 
touch him with our own hands, the revolution then seemed 
in a new sense to be real, and all its scenes were embodied 
before us. All his associates in suffering and danger, all 
the renowned names that once fought by his side, were 
concentred in himself, and he was in the midst of us the 
sole and illustrious representative of a long series of mo- 
mentous events and of a host of heroick men. 

In all the cases, which have been mentioned, the 
associated feelings Were intensely powerful ; a multitude 
of other instances, occurring indeed every day, illustrate 
the same idea, that they are strong and vivid in an unusual 
degree, when suggested by a present object of perception. 
The two circumstances, which have been mentioned, seem 
to be the most obvious and satisfactory reasons, which can 
be given in explanation of the fact. 

These remarks suggest a rule of some practical conse- 
quence to writers of poems, romances, and other works of 
imagination. They should lay the scene of their works, 
where there are human beings, not in " Arcadia," nor in 
" Fairy Land." They should describe men, women, and 
human nature in its various forms, and local scenery, as they 
are ; and then we can sympathize. We can at least say, 
that we have seen such beings as they describe, and per- 
haps that we have travelled in the very region of their res^ 
idence and amid its natural scenery. Our personal ex- 
periencies will give a permanency, and substanstiality, 
and consequently a greater interest to the images of the 
writer, wMkh we might otherwise reject, as being unnatur- 
al, or at least affected, and better suited to other classes of 
beings, than ourselves. 

§. 1G4. Habits may be resolved into mental associations. 

The word, habit, as commonly employed, expresses 
that facility, which our mental operations or bodily actions 
acquire in consequence of practice. By long practice we 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. , 197 

become so familiar with a certain succession of ideas, that 
the one not only infallibly suggests the others, but with 
peculiar quickness, and apparently without any effort of 
our own; — and,'in the same manner,our actions are so close- 
ly connected by practice with the states of the mind,that the 
bodily movements will follow the thoughts without our be- 
ing conscious of any effort of volition, previous to the ac- 
tive exertion. We apply the term habit to various classes 
of persons, to the dexterity of workmen in different manual 
arts, to the rapidity of the accountant, to the fluency of the 
extemporaneous speaker. The fact, that the facility, im- 
plied in habit, is owing to practice, we learn from expe- 
rience. 

In all mechanical arts and all cases, where there is a 
corporeal as well as mental effort, the effect of practice 
will be found to be partly on the mind, and partly on the 
body. The muscles, whieb are at such times employed, 
become stronger and more obedient to the will. The fact 
is well known, but we know not, that any one has been 
able to offer a satisfactory explanation. 

The effect of practice on the mind seems to consist 
wholly in quickening the power of association. Practice 
is the repetition of a thing. The more frequently our as- 
sociated trains of thought are repeated, the more readily 
they occur. This was stated in the third secondary law 
of association, which is this; — The parts of any mental 
train are the more readily suggested, in proportion as they 
have been the more frequently renewed. All intellectual' 
habits, therefore, are nothing more than spontaneous men- 
tal suggestions, which have become such by frequent repe- 
tition. Further remarks, connected with this subject, will 
be found in the. chapter on attention. 

§.165. Historical remarks on the doctrine of asso- 
ciation. 

Although the tendency of one idea or state of the mind 
to suggest another must have ever been so obvious as to 
be generally observed, it required something more than the 
ordinary powers of discernment and classification, to 



198 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

hit upon those general principles, by which the associa- 
tions are regulated. Aristotle, in treating of memory, 
speaks of these principles in part, and is the first, who is 
known to have laid down any general rules. He says, that 
the relations, by which we are led in seeking after or trac- 
ing out those thoughts, which do not at once occur, are 
chiefly three ; resemblance, contrast, and contiguity. 

There is an interesting passage in Cicero on the influ- 
ence of association in the fifth book de finibus, His 
remarks illustrate particularly the results of the principle 
of contiguity. They also strikingly confirm the fact in 
the doctrine of association, that suggested trains of thought 
will be more vivid, when they are in some way connected 
with present objects of perception. 

Mr. Locke in his Essay on the Human Understanding 
added a chapter in the fourth edition on the subject of as- 
sociation. This chapter, although it must be confessed 
to be a very imperfect one, compared with what has since 
been written on the subject, is mentioned with commenda- 
tion by Dugald Stewart, and he thinks, it has contributed as 
much as any thing else in Locke's writings to the subse- 
quent progress of intellectual philosophy. The first edi- 
tion of the Essay on the Human Understanding was pub- 
lished in 1690. 

Ernesti, in his initia doctrinae solidioris, published in 
1734, enters into the subject somewhat particularly. He 
begins with stating the fact of the existence of association, 
or that the states of the mind are in some way connected 
together. He then proceeds to give the general law, by 
which this connection or consecution of states happens, 
as follows ; — A.ny thought or image in the mind has the 
power of suggesting the idea of some absent object. It 
may suggest one, that is in some respects similar to itself, 
—or one, of which the present is a part, — or one, which 
has been present together with it on some former occa- 
sion. 

Mr. Hume gave much attention to this subject. In an 
Essay on the association of ideas, he has the following 



PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 199 

passage. — " Though it be too obvious to escape observa- 
tion, that different ideas are connected together, I do not 
find, that any philosopher has attempted to enumerate or 
class all the principles of association ; a subject, however, 
that seems worthy of curiosity. To me there appear to 
be only three principles of connection among ideas, viz. 
re semblance, contiguity in time and place, and cause 
and effect." 

It would seem from this statement, that he was igno- 
rant of the passage in Aristotle above referred to. He differs 
from the statement which we have preferred on the subject 
of the primary principles of association, in excluding con- 
trast from the number of them. He considers contrast a 
mixture of resemblance and causation ; his arguments in 
support of his theory, which are examined in Brown's Lec- 
tures on the Mind, are rather specious than convincing. 

The doctrine of association makes a considerable figure 
in the Observations on Man of Dr. Hartley. This work 
was published in the beginning of 1749. Dr. Hartley does 
not content himself with giving the mere facts of our men- 
tal operations, which are always valuable, however diffi- 
cult they may be in some cases to be explained ; but un- 
dertakes also to point out the precise connection of the 
origin of those facts with certain previous states of the 
corporeal system. He supposes, that every impression on 
the senses, caused by an external object, is propagated from 
the external body to the brain by means of vibrations in the 
nervous system, or rather by means of the oscillating motion 
of vibratory particles or vibratiuncles in the nerves. He ex- 
pressly compares the vibrations or the motions backwards 
and forwards to the oscillations of pendulums and the trem- 
blings of the particles of sounding bodies. When the vi- 
bration antecedent to one idea is in any degree whatever 
coincident with the vibration of another idea, the recur- 
rence of either of them will have the effect to cause the 
repetition of the other, and of course the repetition of the 
idea or mental state. In this way he has proposed to ac- 
count, not only for the rise or origin of those ideas, which 
come into the mind from things external to us, but for the 



200 PRINCIPLES OP MENTAL ASSOCIATION. 

existence of the great law of association. But his specu- 
lations on these points, which do not so much concern 
the facts themselves as their causation or physical history, 
have been in general regarded, as bordering too much ori 
hypothesis to be particularly deserving of attention. 

Almost all late writers on intellectual philosophy have 
more or less on the subject of association ; and some, 
particularly Dugald Stewart, have written on it with much 
taste and eloquence. To this writer we are much indebt- 
ed in this chapter, and also to the late Thomas Brown ; — 
to the latter particularly for his valuable and original re- 
marks on the secondary laws of association, for which 
he is entitled to great credit. Not, however, that we have 
exactly followed him in his arrangement. The views, 
which have been given both in respect to the primary and 
secondary laws of association, differ in some respects from 
his, as will be seen on comparison. Unhappily for the 
science, he was cut off from life before he was permitted 
to complete and give to the world in his own name his 
analysis of the mind. Had he lived, hardly too much could 
have been expected. 



201 

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 



€ASUA£, ©OSTHlSaTIOHS OP THOUGHT. 



%* 166. dissociation sometimes misleads our judgments. 

There are some cases, where the power of association 
so misleads us, that we cannot easily form a correct judg- 
ment of the true nature of things. Every object of thought, 
in order to be fully understood, ought to be so much in 
our power, that we may examine it separately from all oth- 
er objects. Whenever, therefore, it happens from any cir- 
cumstances, that the power of association so combines one 
object of thought with another, that the object cannot 
readily be looked at and examined by itself, it so far has 
the effect to perplex and hinder correct judgment. It 
will be found, when we look into our minds, that there 
exist a few associations or combinations of thought of 
this kind, which are obstinate and almost invincible ; and 
there are very many of a less degree of strength, but which 
have a considerable effect in disturbing the just exercise 
of the intellect, and require much care in their detection 
and eradication. The latter class will be examined at 
some length in the chapter on prejudices ; — some prom- 
inent instances of the former class will be considered 
here, and, for the want of a better phraseology, we shall 
arrange them together under the head of casual connec- 
tions OF THOUGHT. 

Of these a number of instances deserve a special at- 
tention. To explain the origin and to correct the errone- 
ous tendencies of all such connections of thought, although 
the number of such as we have now in view cannot be 
large, would occupy us too long. The examination of on- 
ly two or three somewhat striking instances will throw 
light on the philosophy of the mind in general, as well as 
be of practical benefit. 

26 



202 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 

§. 167. Connection of our ideas of extension and time^ 

Extension is reckoned among the simple ideas, although 
it is derived from more than one sense ; it is, therefore, 
difficult to define it so as to make it more clear, than it has 
already become by each one's experience. It perhaps ap- 
proaches the nearest to a definition to say, that it is the 
distance between the parts of the same object, where in 
the intermediate parts there is a continuity of the same 
substance. — We get the idea of time, which comes under 
the class of simple modes, by considering any part of du 1 - 
ration, as set or marked off by periodical measures, such 
as hours, days, or years. It is well known, whatever may 
be the cause of it, that people are generally in the habit 
of considering time, as a sort of modification of space or 
extension. This observation may not appear perfectly 
obvious at first. But the expressions, which we apply to 
intervals of duration, are an evidence of its truth. 

We say before such a time or after such a time, the 
same as before or after any material object; — we speak of 
a long or a short time with no more hesitation than of a 
long or short distance, of a long or short bridge, or rail- 
way, or any other object of extension. We utter our- 
selves precisely in the same way we should do, if we were 
certain of having detected some real analogy between the 
two, between length and shortness in material substances 
and what are called length and shortness in time. But it 
is not too much to say, that there is no such analogy, no 
such similitude ; nor is it worth while to anticipate, that 
we shall ever be able to detect such analogy or similitude, 
until we can apply the measures of feet, ells, roods, &c. to 
hours, and days, and weeks. How then can it be account- 
ed for, that we apply terms nearly in the same way, as 
if this were the case, and, as if such measurements could 
be made ? 

The strong association of these ideas has most proba- 
bly arisen in this manner, viz., from our constantly measur- 
ing one of these quantities by the other. It is the common 
me th od to measure time by motion, and motion is measured 



CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 203 

by extension. In an hour the hand of a clock moves 
over a certain space ; in two hours over double the space, 

and so on. No doubt it is convenient to apply the 

terms "long" and "short," "before" and "after," and 
others similar to time. We could not well dispense with 
them. But it ought to be remembered, if we would have 
right notions of things, that the application of those ex- 
pressions has arisen from the mode in which we measure 
time, and that time and space or that modification of space 
which we call extension are essentially distinct in their 
nature. 

§. 168. Of high and low notes in musicfa 

We speak of high and low in reference to notes in mu- 
sick, the same as of the high or low position of material 
bodies. There is supposed to be some analogy between 
the relation, which the notes in the scale of musick bear 
to each other, and the relation of superiority and inferior- 
ity in the position of bodies of matter. But it is impossi- 
ble to prove the existence of such analogy however gen- 
erally it may have been supposed; and the supposition 
itself of its existence has no doubt arisen from a casual as- 
sociation of ideas, or, in the expressions placed at the head 
of this chapter, in a casual connection of thought. A 
proof of this association of ideas being purely accidental 
is, that an association, the very reverse of this, was once 
prevalent ; — We allude to the observation of Dr. Gregory 
in the preface to his edition of Euclid's works, that the 
more ancient Greek writers considered the grave sounds as 
high, and the acute ones as low. The present mode of 
speaking on the subject is of more recent orign ; but at 
what time and in what way it was introduced cannot be 
asserted with confidence. In the preface just referred to, 
it is, however, observed, that the ancient Greek custom of 
looking upon the grave sounds as high and the acute as 
low, precisely the reverse of what is now common, contin- 
ued down until the time of Boethius. It has been conjec- 
tured with some ingenuity, that this connection or associa- 



204 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 

tion of thought among the Greeks and Romans, for it was 
equally prevalent among both, might have been owing to 
the construction of their musical instruments. The string, 
which sounded the grave or what we call the low tone, it 
has been conjectured, was placed highest, and that, which 
gave the shrill or acute, had the lowest place. If this con- 
jecture could be ascertained to be well founded, it would 
strikingly show, from what very slight causes strong and 
permanent associations often arise. It is hardly necessary 
to observe, that it is important to examine the origin and 
progress of such associations, in order that we may correct 
those erroneous and illusive notions, which will be found 
to be built upon them. - 

<§. 169. Connection of ideas of extension and colour. 

There is no necessary connection between colour, as 
the term is commonly employed by philosophers, and ex- 
tension. The word colour properly denotes a sensation 
in the mind ; the word extension, the quality of an exter- 
nal, material object. There is, therefore, no more natural 
connection and no more analogy between the two, than 
there is between pain and solidity. And yet it so happens 
that we never have the sensation or idea of colour without 
at the same time associating extension with it ; we find 
them, however different they may be in their nature, in- 
separable in our thoughts. This strong association is 
formed in consequence of our always perceiving extension 
at the very time, in which the sensation of colour is excit- 
ed in the mind. The perception of the one, and the sen- 
sation of the other have been so long simultaneous, that we 
have been gradually drawn into the belief, that, on the one 
hand, all colour has extension, and, on the other, all ex- 
tension has colour. But what we call colour being merely 
a state of the mind, it is not possible, that it should with 
propriety be predicated of any external material substan- 
ces. Nor is it less evident, if colour be merely a sensation 
or state of the mind, that matter can exist, and does exist 
without it. 



CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 205 

But what has been said will not satisfy all the queries, 
which may be started on this point, unless we remark also 
on the ambiguity in the word colour. The view, which 
has been taken of the connection between colour and ex- 
tension, is founded on the supposition, that colour denotes 
a sensation of the mind and that merely. It seems to be 
supposed by some writers, that the word colour has two 
meanings, and that it is thus generally understood ; — (1) It 
denotes that disposition or arrangement in the particles of 
matter, which not only causes the rays of light to be reflec- 
ted, but to be reflected in different ways ; — (2) It denotes 
that mental sensation, which follows, when the rays have 
reached the retina of the eye. When people use the term 
with this diversity of signification they can say with truth, 
that external bodies have colour, and also that colour is a 
sensation of the mind. It may be said also in the first sense 
of the term, which has been mentioned, that colour has ex- 
tension, because particles of matter have extension. But 
it is by no means evident, that people generally make this 
distinction, although some may. They commonly mean 
by the term the appearance of colour or the sensation in 
the mind ; and they no doubt do in general regard this ap- 
pearance or sensation, as belonging to external objects, as 
being in some sense a part of those objects, and as having 
extension. How erroneous this supposition is, has al- 
ready appeared ! 

§. 170. Whether there be heat infire^c. 

The questions, Whether there be heat in fire, coldness 
in snow, sweetness in sugar, and the like, seem well suit- 
ed to the inquisitive and nicely discriminating spirit of the 
scholastick ages. Whether bodies have colour, a point of 
inquiry in the last section, is another question of essential^ 
ly the same character. Although well suited to exercise 
the ingenuity of the Schools, they are far from being with- 
out importance in the inquiries of the better philosophy of 
later times. If these questions concern merely the matter 



206 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 

of fact, if the inquiry be, What do people think on these 
points "? It admits of different answers. But this is of 
less consequence to be known, than to know what is the 
true view of this subject ? The following, we think, is the 
view, which should be taken. If by heat, cold, and taste 
in bodies, we merely mean, that there is this or that dispo- 
sition or motion in the particles, then it must clearly be 
granted, that fire is hot, that snow is cold, and sugar is 
sweet. But if by heat is understood what one feels on the 
application of fire to the limbs, or if by sweetness is under- 
stood the sensation of taste when a sapid body is applied 
to the tongue, &c, then fire has no heat, sugar no sweet- 
ness, and snow is not cold. These states of the mind can 
never be transformed into any thing material and external. 
The heat or the cold which I feel, and the different kind? 
of tastes are sensations in the soul, and nothing else. 

§. 17k Whether there be meaning in words? 

We say in our common discourse, that there is meaning 
in words, that there is meaning in the printed page of an 
author ; and the language is perhaps sufficiently correct 
for those occasions, on which it is ordinarily employed. 
We do not deem it necessary to object to the common 
mode of speaking in this particular instance, nor to under- 
take to propose any thing better. But there is here an as- 
sociation of ideas, similar, both in its nature and its effects, 
to that existing between extension and colour already rer 
marked upon. 

When objects external to us are presented to the sense 
of sight, there is immediately the sensation of some colour. 
This sensation we have been so long in the habit of refer- 
ring to the external object, that we speak and act, as if 
the colour were truly in that object and not in ourselves ; 
in the language of D'Alembert, as if the sensation were 
transported out of the mind, and spread over the material 
substance. And it is not until we take some time to re- 
flect, and until we institute a careful examination, that we 
become satisfied of our errour. 



CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 207 

In the same way when we look upon the page of an au- 
thor we say it has meaning, or that it is full of thought ; 
whereas in truth, in consequence of a long continued and 
obstinate association, of which we are hardly sensible our- 
selves, we transport the meaning or thought out of our- 
selves and spread it upon that page. The thought or 
meaning is in ourselves, but is placed by us, through the 
means of a casual but very strong association, in the written 
marks, which are before us. All the power, which the 
words have, results from convention, or, what is the same 
thing, exists in consequence of certain intellectual habits, 
formed in reference to those words. It is these habits, 
formed in reference to them, it is this mental correspond- 
ence, which gives these characters all their value ; and 
without the mind, which answers to and which interprets 
them, they could be considered as nothing more than mere 
black strokes drawn upon white paper, and essentially difc 
fering in nothing from the zigzag and unmeaning delinea- 
tions of a school boy on the sand. As all the beautiful 
variety of colours do not and cannot have an existence 
without the mind, which has sensations of them or perceives 
them, so words are useless, are unmeaning, are nothing 
without the interpretations of an intellect, that has been 
trained up so as to correspond to them. Otherwise there 
would be meaning in the unknown inscriptions on the 
bricks brought from Babylon, — there would be meaning 
in the hieroglyphical figures on the monuments of Egypt, 
— they would not stare upon us with the unintelligent va- 
cancy of an idiot. They are now without meaning, with- 
out life and intelligence, for this reason and this only, that 
the minds, which once corresponded to them, and which 
gave them life and intelligence, are no more. By associa- 
tion, therefore, we refer the meaning to the written char- 
acters or words, when in truth it is in the mind, and there 
alone. 



208 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 

§. 172. Benefit of examining such connections of thought 

It is of great importance to us to be able to separate 
ideas, which our situation and habits may have intimately 
combined together. To a person, who has this power in a 
considerable degree, we readily give the credit of possess- 
' ing a clear and discriminating judgment. And this men- 
tal characteristick is of great consequence not only in pur- 
suing the study of intellectual philosophy, but in the con^ 
duct of life. Such an ability is of no less and probably of 
greater value, than mere acuteness of reasoning or quick- 
nets of invention ; although the latter may be considered 
more imposing and brilliant qualities. The associations 
of thought, which have been mentioned in this chapter* 
are so intimate or rather almost indissoluble, that they try 
and discipline the mind in this respect, — they teach it to 
discriminate. They are worthy to be examined, therefore, 
and to be understood, not only for the immediate pleasure, 
which they afford in the discovery of our errours ; but also 
because they have the effect of training up one's powers to 
some good purpose. Let a person be accustomed to mak- 
ing such discriminations as are implied in fully understand- 
ing the instances in this chapter, and he acquires a readi- 
ness, which is not easily outwitted ; he trains himself to 
such a quickness of perception in finding out what truly 
belongs to an object and what does not, as will not al- 
low him to be imposed upon by that confusion of ideas, 
which in so many cases distorts the judgments of the mul- 
titude. 

<§. 173. Power of the will over mental associations. 

In view of what has been said in this and the preced- 
ing chapters, the inquiry naturally arises, What is the de* 
gree of influence, which we are able to exercise by mere 
will or volition over associated trains of thought I The 
answer to be given to this inquiry is, that we have no direct 
influence or power over them ; — there is a constant train 
of ideas, but their succession, their coming and departing 
depends on causes beyond our immediate voluntary con- 



CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 209 

trol. The truth of the general statement, that we cannot 
produce or call up an idea by a mere direct act of the will, 
and that, consequently, trains of ideas are not directly un- 
der its control, cannot but appear quite evident on a lit- 
tle reflection. We never can will the existence of any 
thing without knowing what it is which we will or choose. 
This requires no further proof than is contained in the 
proposition itself. Therefore, the expressions, to will to 
have a certain thought or train of thought, clearly imply 
the present existence of that thought or train ; and, conse- 
quently, there can be no such thing as calling up and di- 
recting our thoughts by immediate volition. 

To this view of want of direct voluntary power over 
our associafid ideas and to the argument in support of it, 
those mental efforts, which we term recollection or inten- 
tional memory, have been brought up as an answer. In 
cases of intentional memory it will be said, an object or 
event is remembered, or, in other words, an idea or train 
of ideas is called up, by mere volition or^choice. To this 
objection we make this reply. It is evident, before we at- 
tempt or make a formal effort to remember the particular 
circumstances of an event, that the event itself in general 
must have been the object of our attention. There is some 
particular thing in all cases of intentional remembrance, 
which we wish to call to mind, although we are totally un- 
able to state what it is ; but we know, that it is somehow 
connected with some general event, which we already have 
in memory. Now by revolving in mind the great facts or 
outlines of that event, it so happens, that the particular 
circumstance, which we were in search of, is called up. 
But certainly no one can say, that this is done by a direct 
volition ; — so far from it, that nothing more is wanted to 
explain it, than the common principles of association. 
This statement is illustrated, whenever, in reciting an ex- 
tract which we had committed to memory, we are at a loss 
for the beginning of a particular sentence. In such a case 
we naturally repeat a number of times the concluding 
words of the preceding sentence, and very soon we recall 
the sentence, which was lost ; not, however, by direct vo- 
lition, but by association. 
27 



110 CASUAL CONNECTIONS OF THOUGHT. 

But we would not be understood to say, that the v)ill 
possesses no influence whatever over our trains of thought ; 
its influence is very considerable, although it is not, as we 

have seen, immediate and direct. ( 1 ) We have, in the 

first place, the power of checking or delaying the succes- 
sion of ideas. We are not, indeed, enabled by our power 
in this respect either directly to call up or to banish any 
one or any number of our thoughts. But the consequence 
is, a variety of trains of thought are suggested, which 
would not have been suggested, had it not been for the 
circumstance of the original train being delayed. Thus, 
in the course of our mental associations, the name of Sir 
Isaac Newton occurs; — we check the current of our 
thoughts at that name, and we feel and are conscious, that 
we have within us the power to do so. While we delay 
upon it, a variety of series of ideas occurs. At one mo- 
ment, we think of eminent mathematicians and astronomers, 
for he himself was one ; at another, we think of those co- 
temporaries, who were his particular friends, whatever 
their rank in science, because they lived at the same time ; 
a moment after, our minds dwell upon some striking inci- 
dents in his life or some marked features in his social or 
intellectual character ; — and again, we may be led to think, 
almost in the same instant, of some proposition or demon- 
stration, which had once exercised his patience and skill. 
In consequence of delaying a few moments on the name 
or rather on the general idea of the man, these different 
trains of thought are presented ; and we can evidently fix 
our minds upon one of these subjects, if we choose, and 
dismiss the others. This is one way, in which by choice 
or volition we are able to exercise a considerable indirect 
power over our associations. 

(2) We acquire, in the second place, great power over 
our associations by habit ; and, as no man forms such hab- 
it without willing or choosing to form it, we have here 
another instance of the indirect power of volition. By 
the term, habit, when it is applied to our mental oper- 
ations, we mean that facility or readiness, which they ac- 
quire by being frequently repeated. (See §. 164.) The 



OF ATTENTION. 211 

consequence of repetition or frequent practice is, that cer- 
tain associations are soon very much strengthened, or that 
a facility in them is acquired. It is a well known fact, 
that almost any person may become a punster or rhymer 
by taking the pains to form a habit, that is, by increasing 
the facility of certain associations by frequent repetition. 
By punning we understand the power of readily summon- 
ing up, on a particular occasion, a number of words differ- 
ent from each other in meaning, but resembling each oth- 
er, more or less, in sound. That facility of association, 

which is acquired by frequent repetition and which is ex- 
pressed by the word habit, is the great secret of fluency 
in extemporaneous speaking. The extemporaneous speak- 
er must, indeed, have ideas ; no modification of association 
whatever can supply the place of them. But his ability to 
arrange them in some suitable order and to express them 
in words without previous care and effort, is the result, in a 
great measure, of habits of association. 



CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 



OP ATTENTION. 



$. 174. Nature of attention and different degrees of it. 

Without considering it necessary to speak of attention 
as a separate intellectual power or faculty, as some may 
be inclined to do, it seems to be sufficient to say, that at- 
tention expresses the state of the mind, when it is steadily 
directed, for some time, whether longer or shorter, to some 
object of sense or intellect, exclusive of other objects. 
When we say, that any thought or idea receives attention, 
it seems to be the fact, as far as we are able to determine, 
that the thought or idea, or whatever is the object of that 
attention, remains in the mind for a certain period, and 
that all other thoughts are, for the time being, shut out. 



212 OF ATTENTION. 

It follows from this view of it, that attention may be 
very great or very small, in a very high or a very slight de- 
gree, according as the mind is occupied with any thought or 
subject for a greater or less time. When the view of the 
mind is only momentary, a mere glance ; then the attention 
is said to be very slight ;— but when it bend& itself upon 
a thought or series of thoughts for any considerable length 
of time and refuses during that period to attend to any 
thing else whatever, then the attention is said to be intense. 

Of instances of people, who are able to give but slight 
attention to a subject, who cannot bring their minds to it 
with steadiness and power, we every where find multitudes ; 
and there are some instances, where this ability has been 
possessed in such a high degree as to be worthy of notice. 
There have been mathematicians, who could investigate 
the most complicated problems amid every variety and 
character of disturbance. The chess-player Philidor could 
direct three games of chess at the same time, of one of 
which only he required ocular inspection, the moves of 
the other two being announced to him by an assistant. — 
Of power in controlling the attention, Julius Caesar has 
sometimes been mentioned as an instance ; while writing 
a dispatch, it is said, that he could at the same time dic- 
tate four others to his secretaries, and, if he did not write 
himself, could dictate seven letters at once. 

§. 175. Of the dependence of memory on attention. 

There seems to be no fact in mental philosophy more 
clearly established than this, that memory depends on at- 
tention; that is, where attention is very slight, remem- 
brance is weak, and where attention is intense, remem- 
brance continues longer. The following statements go to 
prove and illustrate this remark. — (1) Let a person be 
much engaged in conversation or occupied with any very 
interesting speculation, and the clock will strike in the 
room where he is, apparently without his having any know- 
ledge of it. He hears the clock strike as much as at any 
other time, but, not attending to the perception of sound 



OF ATTENTION. 213 

and having his thoughts directed another way, he imme- 
diately forgets. —(2) In the the course of a single day per- 
sons, who are in the habit of winking, will close their eye- 
lids perhaps thousands of times, and as often as they close 
them, will place themselves in utter darkness. Undoubt- 
edly they are conscious at the time both of closing their 
eyelids and of being in the dark, but as their attention is 
chiefly taken up with other things, they have entirely for- 
gotten it. — (3) Whenever we read a book, we do not ob- 
serve the words merely as a whole, but every letter of 
which they are made up, and even the minute parts of these 
letters. But it is merely a glance ; it does not for any 
length of time ocupy our attention ; we immediately for- 
get, and with great difficulty persuade ourselves, that we 
have truly perceived the letters of the word. The fact, 
that every letter is in ordinary cases observed by us, may be 
proved by leaving out a letter of the word, or by substi- 
tuting others of a similar form. We readily in reading 
detect such omissions or substitutions. 

Many facts of this kind evidently show, as we think, 
that memory depends upon attention or rather upon a 
continuance of attention and varies with that continuance. 
Every one's general reading confirms this. Whenever 
we read a book, which does not particularly interest us, 
and which, in failing to interest us, leaves our thoughts to 
go astray upon other subjects, how very little is engraven 

in the recollection ! The facts, which have been given, 

not only go to evince the dependence of memory on at- ' 
Mention, but show also, in a striking manner, the rapidity 
of our mental operations. The fact, that we notice every 
letter, and the shape of every letter, and combine them 
together in words, and still are not delayed in reading, but 
proceed from word to word without hesitation, gives a view 
of the mind, which cannot but astonish us. But as the sub- 
ject of the rapidity of our mental operations, in attending 
to a variety of successive objects, which has thus beea 
suggested, is one of much interest, we delay upon it here, 
and make a few further remarks. 



214 OF ATTENTION. 

§. 176. Of rapidity in attending to different objects. 

The following illustration, in addition to others in the 
preceding section, may be given, to show the rapidity of 
the mind in giving its attention to different objects ; — it 
is stated by Mr. Hobbes in his political treatise of the 
Leviathan. He says, he was once in company, where the 
conversation turned on the English civil war. A person 
abruptly asked, in the course of the conversation, What 
was the value of a Roman denarius *? Such a question, so 
remote from the general direction of the conversation, had 
the appearance not only of great abruptness, but of imperti- 
nence. Mr. Hobbes says, that, on a little reflection, he 
was able to trace the train of thought, which suggested the 
question. The original subject of discourse naturally in- 
troduced the history of king Charles ; the king naturally 
suggested the treachery of those, who surrendered him up 
to his enemies ; the treachery of these persons readily in- 
troduced to the mind the treachery of Judas Iscariot ; the 
conduct of Judas was associated with the thirty pieces of 
silver, and as the Romans occupied Judea at the time of the 
crucifixion of the Saviour, the pieces of silver were asso- 
ciated with the Roman denarii. All these trains of thought 
passed through the mind of the person, who asked the 
question, in a twinkling ; and probably he himself, if he 
had been asked upon it, could not have told the precise 
connection of ideas, which led him aside from the original 
topick of discourse. This instance illustrates both the 
great rapidity of thought and the dependence of memory 
on attention. 

The rapidity of thought is illustrated also, in a striking 
manner, in the case of an equilibrist, balancing a rod on 
his finger. To do this requires constantly not only the at- 
tention of his mind, but the observation of his eye. The 
part of the body, which supports the object, is never whol- 
ly at rest ; for, if it were, the object would no more stand 
upon it, than it would retain its position, if placed upright 
on a table. The equilibrist, therefore, watches every in- 



OF ATTENTION. 215 

clination of the object from the proper position, so as to 
counteract that inclination by a contrary movement. But, 
what is worthy of remark, he can balance not only a single 
rod in this way, but two or three upon different parts of 
his body, and, at the same time, balance himself on a small 
cord or wire. That the mind should be able to attend to 
these different equilibriums, is very wonderful ; but that it 
does attend to them is evident, because not only the atten- 
tion of the mind is requisite, but a particular direction of 
the eye. This direction cannot be given to the eye with- 
out a preceding act of the mind. — We have a similar illus- 
tration of the rapidity of the mind in directing itself to dif- 
ferent objects in the performers at the circus. The per- 
former vaults upon a horse, when at full speed ; he rises on 
the saddle ; he stands upon one foot, and, in this situation, 
while his horse is in the most rapid movement, performs a 
variety of feats, every one of which requires from the mind 
a multitude of distinct acts of attention. 

$. 177. Of rapidity of attention in connection with habits. 

In connection with what has been said, we are led to 
remark upon the views of Reid and Hartley on the subject 
of habits. Their views are, that habits operate without 
will or intention on the part of the person, who has formed 
them ; and that, as they are without any attendant thought 
or mental operation, they are to be considered as merely 
mechanical or automatick principles. They illustrate their 
ideas, as well as imagine that they prove them, by the in- 
stance of a person, learning to play on the harpsichord. 
When a person first begins to learn, it is admitted by all, 
that there is an express act of volition, preceding every 
motion of the fingers. By degrees the motions appear to 
cling to each other ; at least they follow each other with 
such ease and rapidity, that the volitions, which were at 
first easily recognized and distinguished, become evanes- 
cent and imperceptible ; — in other words, there is nothing 
left but the motions ; there is no act of the mind. But 
the concluding part of this statement, which is adopted by 



216 



OF ATTENTION. 



the advocates of the opinion, that habits are altogether me- 
chanical, does not carry with it very strong evidence. It 
may be admitted, that the volitions are evanescent and ap- 
parently imperceptible. But all this may happen on what 
we conceive the more rational supposition, that the voli- 
tions exist, but are so very rapid, and arrest in so very 
small a degree the attention, or rather arrest it for so short 
a time, as not to be remembered. 

An evidence of the correctness of this supposition is, 
that the most rapid performer is able, when he pleases, to 
play so slowly, that he can distinctly observe and recollect 
every act of the will in the various movements of the fin- 
gers. And when he has checked his motions so as to be 
able to observe the separate acts of volition, he can after- 
wards so accelerate those motions and of course so dimin- 
ish the power, or what is the same thing, the time of at- 
tention, that he cannot recall the accompanying volitions. 

In favour of the latter statement, the performances of 
the equilibrist and of the actors of the circus may be again 
referred to. In their performances it is certain, that as 
great a rapidity of mental operation is requisite, as in per- 
forming on any musical instruments. The movements of 
the equilibrist, of the rope-dancer, and of the performer on 
horseback, do not succeed each other in a certain regular 
order, like the movements of a player on the harpsichord, 
in performing a piece of musick. It may be pronounced 
impossible for them to perform experiments, which agree 
in every particular with preceding experiments. They 
are governed in their volitions and movements by a variety 
of circumstances, which arise on every particular occasion, 
and which could not have been foreseen ; and there is, 
consequently, a rapidity of volition in these instances not 
less than would be required in playing the harpsichord on 
the hypothesis, which we have thought preferable. — There 
remains to be mentioned one more instance, illustrative of 
the views, which have been given, — that of an expert ac- 
countant. We find, that such an accountant can sum up, 
almost with a single glance of the eye, a long column of 
figures. The operation is performed almost instantaneously, 



OF ATTENTION. 217 

and yet he ascertains the sum of the whole with unerring 
certainty. There cannot be a question, that every figure 
in the whole column has come under his notice, and that 
its proper worth has been allowed to it, but he is unable to 
recollect the particular figures. Here is an instance, where 
we have decisive proof of the existence of a rapidity in the 
mental operation of attention as great as we have contend- 
ed for, and where there is no distinct remembrance of that 
operation afterwards ; — it is an instance well fitted to throw 
light upon and explain the true nature of all other cases 
of mental habits, viz. That they are associations of thought, 
which have acquired facility and quickness by repetition 
or practice. 

§. 178. Of attention in legerdemain and ventriloquism. 

It has with no little reason been thought, that the dex- 
terity of jugglers in practising tricks of legerdemain or 
sleights of hand illustrates and confirms in some measure 
the views, which have been given. These persons acquire 
the power of performing certain feats with astonishing ra- 
pidity by habit. The rapidity, with which they perform 
their feats, is undoubtedly the great secret of the imposi- 
tions, which they are able to practise on the understandings 
of those, who observe them. The time, which they take 
up in going through their tricks of legerdemain, is so very 
short, that the spectator is unable to exert that degree of 
attention, which is necessary to lay the foundation of mem- 
ory ; so that the performance is the same to him, in conse- 
quence of his inability to remember any thing, as if he 
had never seen it. 

It may not be out of place briefly to remark here in ex- 
planation of ventriloquism, an art, by which persons can 
so modify their voice, as to make it appear to their audi- 
ence to proceed from different distances and directions. 
The great requisite on the part of the ventriloquist is to be 
able to mimick sounds ; and he will be likely to succeed 
nearly in proportion to his skill in this particular. The 
secret then of his acoustick deceptions will be sufficiently 
28 



318 OF ATTENTION. 

understood by referring to the statement in §. 29, viz. 
That, previous to experience, we are unable to refer sounds 
to any particular external cause. — The sound itself never 
gives us any direct and immediate indication of the place, 
or distance, or direction of the sonorous body. It is only 
by experience, it is only by the association of place with 
sound, that the latter becomes an indication of the former. 
Now, supposing the ventriloquist to possess a delicate ear, 
which is implied in his ability to mimick sounds, he soon 
learns by careful observation the difference, which change 
of place causes in the same sound. Having in this way 
ascertained the sounds, which, in consequence of the asso- 
ciations men have formed, are appropriate to any particu- 
lar distance, direction, or object, it is evident, whenever 
he exactly or very nearly imitates such sounds, that they 
must appear to his audience to come from such distance, 
object, or direction. One part of the art, however, con- 
sists in controlling the attention of the persons present, 
and in directing that attention to some particular place by 
a remark, motion, or in some other method. If, for in- 
stance, the sound is to come from under a tumbler or hat, 
the performer finds it important to have their attention di- 
rected to that particular object, which gives a fine oppor- 
tunity for the exercise of all those associations, which they 
have formed with any sound coming from a very confined 
place. All, then, that remains for him to do, is, to give 
his voice a dull modulation and on a low key, which we 
know from our experience to be the character of confined 
sounds. Then there seems to be a voice speaking under 
a tumbler or hat ; and if any person should, either inten- 
tionally or unintentionally, lift these articles up, the ven- 
triloquist immediately utters himself on a higher key, like 
a person, who had been very much confined, on being re- 
admitted into the free and open air. In all these cases, 

both of legerdemain and of ventriloquism, a great deal 
depends on the skill of the performer, in directing the at- 
tention of those, who witness the exhibition, to some par 
ticular object, or in diverting their attention from it ; bu! 
in sleights of hand there is the still more difficult art o f 



OF ATTENTION. 219 

performing feats so rapidly as absolutely to prevent the de- 
gree of attention requisite for memory. 

§. 179. Whether the mind can attend to more than one 
object at the same time. 

In connection with what has already been said, we 
are in some degree prepared to consider the question, 
Whether the mind can attend to more than one thing at 
one and the same instant ? The question can perhaps be 
stated more clearly thus ; — Whether we can attend at one 
and the same instant to objects, which we can attend to 
separately f This question does not admit of a direct ap- 
peal to the fact, and, therefore, cannot be decided with 
perfect confidence ; but the opinion, that we cannot attend 
to more than one object at a time has been thought by 
most of those, who have carefully examined the subject, to 

be far the most reasonable and philosophical. It is true, 

there are many cases, where the mind appears to exert dif- 
ferent acts of attention at once. But when we consider 
the astonishing rapidity of our thoughts, it is obvious, that 
these cases may be explained without supposing the men- 
tal acts in question to be co-existent. The instances of 
mental rapidity, which have been brought forward already, 
apply here, and are to be kept in recollection. It is a 
point well and satisfactorily ascertained by such facts as 
we have alluded to, that it is possible for the mind to exert 
different acts of attention in an interval of time so short, as 
to produce the same sensible effect or appear to be the 
same, as if they had been exerted at one and the same mo- 
ment. This is proved in particular by what was said of 
equilibrists, performers at the circus, rope-dancers, and 
acts of legerdemain. As, therefore, we never can prove 
by any direct evidence, that the mind actually attends to 
different objects at one and the same time, but merely that 
it appears to, we justly draw the conclusion, that it does 
not thus attend to them, because that appearance can be 
accounted for by facts, which are well established. That 
is to say, it can be accounted for sufficiently well by what 
we have seen and known of the rapidity of the mind's op- 



220 OF ATTENTION. 

erations ; and this, therefore, is the preferable doctrine. 

The opinions, advanced in this section, may be further con- 
sidered in respect to musick. 

§. 180. On attending at the same time to different parts 
in musick. 

It seems to be a common idea, that, in a concert of mu- 
sick, a good ear can attend to the different parts at the 
same time, and feel the full effect of the harmony. That 
this may possibly be the case it seems not necessary to de- 
ny. But after what has been said of the rapidity, with 
which the mind transfers its attention from one object to 
another, it cannot be thought to be probable, and there is 
good ground for offering another explanation and one 
more philosophical. This explanation can be easily con- 
jectured, viz. That the mind passes from one part of the 
musick to the other with such quickness, as to give us no 
perception of an interval of time. If the views taken in 
the preceding section be correct, as one can hardly doubt 
after looking at the arguments brought forward, this ex- 
planation in respect to musick necessarily follows. 

§. 181. Of attention in the perception of external objects. 

In discussing the subject of attention, Mr. Stewart, in 
connection with his views on that subject, introduces 
some remarks in respect to vision. He makes this supposi- 
tion, That the eye is fixed in a particular position, and the 
picture of an object is painted on the retina. He then 
starts this inquiry, — Does the mind perceive the complete 
figure of the object at once, or is this perception the result 
of the various perceptions we have of the different points 
in the outline *? He holds the opinion, that the percep- 
tion is the result of our perceptions of the different points 
in the outline, which he adopts as naturally consequent on 
such views, as the following. The outline of every body 
is made up of points or smallest visible portions ; no 
two of these points can be in precisely the same direction ; 
therefore, every point by itself constitutes just as distinct 



OF ATTENTION. 221 

an object of attention to the mind, as if it were separated 
by some interval of empty space from all the other points. 
It follows from these facts, that it is impossible for the mind 
to attend to more than one of these points at once, since 
they can be distinct objects of attention, and it has appear- 
ed that the mind cannot attend at one and the same time 
to objects, which it can attend to separately. The con- 
clusion, therefore, is, as the perception of the figure of the 
object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of the 
different points with respect to each other, that such per- 
ception is the result of a number of different acts of atten- 
tion. How then do we appear to see the object at once ? 
The answer is, that the acts of attention are performed 
with such rapidity, that the effect with respect to us is the 

same, as if the perception were instantaneous. There 

are some facts, which go to confirm these views of the 
mode of our perception of objects. We find, that we do 
not have as distinct an idea, at the first glance, of a figure 
of a thousand sides, as we do of a triangle or square. But 
we evidently should, if the perception of visible figure 
were the immediate consequence of the picture on the 
retina, and not the combined result of the separate percep- 
tions of the points in the outline. Whenever the figure is 
very simple, the process of the mind is so very rapid, that 
the perception seems to be instantaneous. But when 
the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, the in- 
terval of time necessary for these different acts of attention 
becomes perceptible. It follows from these views of the 
mode of perceiving visible figure, that there can be no per- 
ceptions of the visible form of objects without the faculty 
of memory. 

§. 182. Rapidity of attention one cause of difficulty in 
criticism. 

Experience teaches us, that certain objects are fitted to 
give pleasure, while others are either indifferent, or impart 
disgust. We know the fact but it is impossible for us to 
give any explanation of it, further than to say, that such is 



222 OF ATTENTION. 

our constitution or that we are thus formed. (See §. 19,) 
But then previously to the emotion of pleasure or displeas- 
ure, of satisfaction or of disgust, the mind is very active, 
and has not only a multitude of perceptions, but forms va- 
rious comparisons. We will suppose, thai the emotion 
excited is that of pleasure, and that the object which is the 
cause of it exhibits different qualities ; some of them are 
pleasing, some are indifferent, and others are suited to 
cause disgust. All these different qualities are in a state 
of combination, and they mutually affect each other. 
Here the mind rapidly makes a discrimination : it fixes 
upon the particular parts of the object, which is suppos- 
ed to possess many different qualities, and separates the 
elements of beauty ; it assigns their due influence to those 
qualities, which are either indifferent or are displeasing ; 
it takes a comparative view of the whole ; and the result 
of these various perceptions and comparisons is that new 
state of the mind, which we call a pleasing emotion. But 
we no sooner have the pleasing emotion, than we feel a 
sort of disinclination to retrace the previous steps. And 
when it is otherwise and we have an inclination to, the 
mental process has been so rapid, that we often meet with 
serious difficulty in detecting the separate steps of it in the 
order of their succession. So that we have here one 
cause of difficulty in criticism, for it comes within the pro- 
vince of the philosophy of criticism, to detect and point 
out those operations of the mind, which precede emotions 
either of pleaure or disgust. And in doing this, criticks 
meet with the obstacle, which has been mentioned. We 
see here a cause also, why they are so often at variance 
with each other as to the precise ground of emotions of 
pleasure and the opposite ; and also why others, who do 
not presume to take upon themselves the rank of criticks, 
do not always assent to their expositions, and sometimes 

differ from them. One of the great requisites in a crit- 

ick is the ability to reflect steadily and carefully on the 
operations of the mind, in order that he may check them 
in the rapidity of their progress and detain them sufficient- 
ly long to be able to analyze them. 



pF ATTENTION. 223 

§. 183. Of attention as connected with the improvement 

of the other senses when one is lost. 

Another well-known and interesting fact illustrates the 
views taken in this chapter. When one of our senses is 
accidentally lost, there is an improvement of the others ; 
when a person loses his sight, there is an increased sensi- 
bility of the touch. The cause of this has been already 
stated and remarked upon. (See §. 41.) We do not sup- 
pose, that there is any change in the physical constitution 
of the body, which causes the improvement in the remain- 
ing senses. Such a supposition is unnecessary, and, as the 
fact can be explained without it, is unphilosophical. An- 
other explanation, is, therefore, to be preferred. When 

all the senses remain and are in full exercise, there are a 
multitude of slight suggestions from them, which are per- 
ceived but are not attended to, because they are not of 
any urgent and immediate practical value ; and they are 
not remembered, because they are not attended to. We 
mean, they receive but very slight attention. But when 
one or more of the senses is gone, those slight suggestions 
at once assume an increased importance. They become 
necessary to one's enjoyment and perhaps existence. The 
mind, therefore, is under a sort of necessity of delaying 
upon and marking a variety of evanescent intimations from 
the senses, which it formerly neglected. It not only mere- 
ly attends to them, but examines them, and puts them to 
hardly less practical use than many more obvious sensa- 
tions. So that there is not necessarily any physical im- 
provement of the senses, when one is lost; but the mind 
merely attends to and remembers their slight suggestions, 
more than it previously did ! 

§. 184. Of attention in connection ivith the intellectual 

habits of men in active life. 

The mental operations of men in active life are often 
very rapid, the conclusions, at which they arrive on sub- 
jects somewhat complicated, are generally correct, but 



224 



OF ATTENTION, 



they frequently find themselves unable to state clearly the 
process of reasoning, by which they arrived at the conclu- 
sion. Oliver Cromwell, the English Protector, is said to 
have been a person, to whom this statement would well 
apply. Rarely any man has had a clearer insight into 
events, but when he attempted to explain himself, he was 
confused and obscure. If we were to give his intellectual 
character in a single sentence, it would be but just to say, 
that Cromwell was a man of argument, but no speaker. 
His mind readily insinuated itself into the intricacies of a 
subject, and while he could assert with confidence, that he 
had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion, he could not so 
readily describe either the direction he had taken or the 
involutions of the journey. This character of the Protec- 
tor will apply to multitudes of men in active life, although 
undoubtedly for the most part in a less degree. Their 
distinguishing traits are two, — an ability to examine with 
great quickness all the parts of an intricate subject, and an 
equal want of ability in stating this process to others. 

Concerning the first of these characteristicks, it is suf- 
ficient to say, that the great readiness, which they exhibit, 
is a habit, which they have been compelled to form by the 
circumstances, in which they have been placed. In a 
thousand emergencies they have been obliged to act with 
quickness, and at the same time with caution ; in other words, 
to examine subjects, and to have it done with expedition. In 
this way the habit spoken of has been formed, viz. of exceed- 
ing readiness in all their mental acts. The other promi- 
nent mental trait in men in active life arises from this great 
quickness of intellectual operation,which they are capable of 
putting forth. The facts,which have but just been before us, 
illustrate this case. The minute circumstances, which are 
examined, previous to a judgment on all subjects of diffi- 
culty, are passed in review with such rapidity, are made in 
so very small a degree or rather for so short a time the ob- 
jects of separate attention, that they vanish and are forgot- 
ten. Hence these persons, although the conclusion to 
which they have come be satisfactory, as they are unable 
to remember them, are, consequently, unable to state to 



OF ATTENTION. .. 225 

others all the subordinate steps in the argument. Every 
thing has once been fairly before their own minds, but 
their argument, as stated in words, owing to their inability 
to arrest and embody all the evanescent processes of 

thought, appears to others defective and confused. And 

in truth it is a known fact, that mere men of business have 
for the most part a great repugnance to stating their views 
in publick. They regard it as a task of much difficulty, 
as undoubtedly it is to persons of such intellectual habits. 
When obliged to do it, their only resort is to prepare them- 
selves in private, to examine again and again their thoughts, 
to throw them into words and sentences, and to fix the 
verbal propositions with as much exactness as possible in 
the memory ;— otherwise they fail to do justice either to 
themselves or their subject. 

§. 185. Of exercising attention in 7'eading. 

If attention, as we have seen, be the foundation of 
memory, then we are furnished with a practical rule of 
considerable importance. The rule is, Not to give a hasty 
and careless reading of authors, but to read them with a 

degree of deliberation and thought. It is the fault of 

some persons, that they are too quickly weary, that they 
skip from one author to another, and from one sort of 
knowledge to another. It is true, there are many things 
to be known ; we w T ould not have a person limit himself 
entirely to one science, but it is highly important, that he 
should guard against that rapid and careless transition 
from subject to subject, which has been mentioned. And 
why is it important ? The intimation at the head of this 
section, that there cannot be memory without attention, 
or rather that the degree of memory will vary with the de- 
gree of attention, suggests the answer. By yielding to the 
desire of becoming acquainted with a greater variety of 
departments of knowledge, than the understanding is able 
to master, and, as a necessary consequence, by bestowing 
upon each of them only a very slight attention, we remain 
essentially ignorant of the whole. 
29 



226 



OF ATTENTION. 



The person, who pursues such a course, finds himself 
unable to recall what he has been over ; he has a great 
many half-formed notions floating in his mind, but these 
are so ill shaped and so little under his control as to be 
but little better, than sheer ignorance. This is one evil 
result of reading authors and of going over sciences in the 
careless way, which has been specified, that the knowledge 
thus acquired, if it can be called knowledge, is of very 
little practical benefit, in consequence of being so poorly 
digested and so little under control. — But there is another 
and perhaps more serious evil ; — this practice greatly dis- 
qualifies one for all intellectual pursuits ; the mind, having 
been so long left at liberty to wander from object to object 
without being called to account and subjected to the rules 
of salutary discipline, entirely loses at last the ability to 
dwell upon the subjects of its thoughts and to examine 
them. And when this power is once Jost, there is but little 
ground to expect any solid attainments. 

Note. Many writers on the mind and on education in 
general from Quintilian down to Mr. Locke have noticed 
and remarked upon the connection existing between atten- 
tion and memory. More recently Condillac has briefly 
examined the subject of attention, and has happily illus- 
trated the astonishing rapidity, with which the mind is ca- 
pable of giving its attention to successive objects. Hel- 
vetius, another French writer, has given, in his work on the 
mind entitled de l' esprit, a chapter where he treats of the 
unequal capacity of attention in different individuals. The 
chapter to which we refer is entitled, de VinegaU capacite 
(T attention. He investigates in particular the ability of pa- 
tient inquiry or power of continued attention, which is so 
very necessary in philosophical pursuits. Dugald Stewart? 
pursuing the path which Condillac had partially opened, 
has treated this subject with great ability ; he especially 
considers rapidity of attention or those exceedingly minute 
acts of attention, without which there can be no recollec- 
tion or memory whatever. -Locke's Essay, B. II. chap. 

10. — Conctillac's Origin of Knowledge, P. 1. Sect. 2. chap. 
1. — Stewards Elements, chap. 2. 



227 
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH, 



OF CONCEPTIONS. 



§. 186. Meaning of conceptions and how they differ 



from certain oiher ideas. 



Conceptions is the name given to those ideas, which 
we have of any absent object of perception, or of any sen- 
sations which the mind has formerly felt. Whenever we 
have conceptions, our ideas are replaced, as Shakespeare 
expresses it, in the " mind's eye," without our at all consid- 
ering at what time or in what place they first originated. 
In other words, our ideas or mental states are recalled, and 

nothing more. Using, therefore, the term conceptions 

to express a class of ideas, it may be sufficient, in order to 
give some notion of their distinctive character, to mention, 
how they differ from perceptions, and from ideas of mem- 
ory. — (1) They differ from perceptions, because the objects 
of them are absent. When we perceive any thing, an ed- 
ifice, a lake, or a mountain ; the objects of our perceptions 
are before us. But we may form conceptions of them, and 
they may exist in " the mind's eye," however distant. — 
(2) They differ also from ideas of memory, because they 
are contemplated exclusively of any considerations of time. 
But in every act of the memory there is an idea of the past. 
Hence, as those states of mind, to which we give the name 
of conceptions, possess these distinctive marks or charac- 
teristicks, they are entitled to a separate name. 

Conceptions being merely mental states or acts of a 
particular kind are regulated by the general laws of the 
intellect, and make their appearance and disappearance on 
the principles of association. Those principles have al- 
ready been explained. Whenever at any time we may use 
the phrase "power of conception" or "faculty of concep- 
tion," nothing more is to be understood by such expressions 
than this, that there is in the mind a susceptibility of ideas 



228 OP CONCEPTIONS. 

possessing the marks, which we have ascribed to this? 
class. 

§. 187. Of conceptions of objects of sight. 

One of the striking facts in regard to our conceptions 
is, that we can far more easily conceive the objects of some 
senses than of others. Suppose a person to have travelled 
abroad, and to have seen St. Peter's church and the Vati- 
can, or to have visited the cataract of Niagara and the 
falls of St. Anthony, or any other interesting object of 
sight ; it is well known, that the mind of this person after- 
wards even for many years very readily forms a conception 
of those objects. Such ideas are so easily and so distinct- 
ly recalled, that it is hardly too much to say of them, that 
they seem to exist as permanent pictures in the mind. It 
is quite different with a particular sound, which we have 
formerly heard, and with a particular taste, or any pleasant 
or painful sensations of the touch, which we have formerly 
experienced. When the original perceptions have in 
these last cases departed, we find that the ideas do not 
readily exist again in the absence of their appropriate ob- 
jects, and never with the distinctness, which they pos- 
sessed at first. Ideas of visible objects, therefore, are 
more readily recalled, or we can more easily form concep- 
tions of such objects than we can of the objects of the oth- 
er senses. — This peculiarity in the case of visible objects 
may be thus partially explained. 

Visible objects or rather the outlines of them are com- 
plex ; that is, they are made up of a great number of points 
or very small portions. (See §. 181.) Hence the conception, 
which we form of such an object as a whole, is aided by 
the principles of association. The reason is obvious. As 
every original perception of a visible object is a compound, 
made up of many parts, whenever we subsequently have a 
conception of it, the process is the same ; we have a con- 
ception of a part of the object, and the principles of asso- 
ciation help us in conceiving the other parts. Association 
connects the parts together ; it presents them to the mind 



OF CONCEPFIONS. 229 

in their proper arrangement, and helps to sustain them 
there. 

We are not equally aided by the laws of association in 
forming our conceptions of the objects of the other senses. 
When we think of some sound, or taste, or touch, the ob- 
ject of our conception is a single detached sensation. In 
every such sound, or taste, or sensation of touch, whether 
we consider it at its first origin or when it is subsequently 
recalled, there is not that association of the parts, which 
we suppose to exist in every visual perception, and which 
must, of course, exist in every conception of objects of 
sight, which subsequently takes place. Accordingly our 
conceptions of the latter objects arise more readily, and 
are more distinct than of the others. 

§. 188. Of the influence of habit on our conceptions. 

It is another circumstance worthy of Dotice in regard 
to conceptions, that the power of forming them depends 
in some measure on habit. In what sense we are to un- 
derstand the terms power and faculty, when used in this 
connection, has already been explained. A few instan- 
ces will help to illustrate this statement ; and the first to 
be given will be of conceptions of sounds. Our concep- 
tions of sounds are in general very indistinct, as appeared 
in the last section. But a person may acquire the power 
of amusing himself with reading written musick. Having 
frequently associated the sounds with the notes, he has at 
last such a strong conception of the sounds, that he expe- 
riences^ merely reading the notes, a very sensible plea- 
sure. It is for the same reason,, viz. because our associa- 
tionsjare strengthened by habit, that readers may enjoy 
the harmony of poetical numbers without at all articula- 
ting the words- 

That our power of forming conceptions is strengthened 
by habit is capable of being illustrated also from the sight. 
A person, who has been accustomed to drawing, retains a 
much more perfect notion of a building, landscape, or oth- 
er visible object, than one who is not. A portrait painter, 



230 



OF CONCEPTIONS. 



or any person, who has been in the habit of drawing such 
sketches, can trace the outlines of the human form with 
very great ease ; it requires hardly more effort from them 
than to write their name. — This point may be illustrated 
by the difference which we sometimes notice in people in 
their conceptions of colours. Some are fully sensible of 
the difference between two colours when they are present- 
ed to them, but cannot with confidence give names to these 
colours when they see them apart, and may even confound 
the one with the other. Their original sensations or per- 
ceptions are supposed to be equally distinct with those of 
other persons ; but their subsequent conception of the col- 
ours is far from being so. This defect arises partly at least 
from want of practice or habit. The persons, who exhib- 
it this weakness of conception, have not been compelled 
by their situation nor by mere inclination to distinguish 
and to name colours so much as is common. 

§. 189. Of the subserviency of our conceptions to deSr 

cription. 

It is highly favourable to the talent for lively descrip- 
tion, when a person's conceptions are readily suggested 
and are distinct. Even such an one's common conversa- 
tion differs from that of those, whose conceptions arise 
more slowly and are more faint. — One man, whether in 
conversation or in written description, seems to place the 
object, which he would give us an idea of, directly before 
us ; it is represented distinctly and to the life. Another, 
although not wanting in a command of language, is confu- 
sed and embarrassed amid a multitude of particulars, which 
in consequence of the feebleness of his conceptions he 
finds himself but half acquainted with ; and he, therefore, 
gives us but a very imperfect notion of the thing, which 
he would describe. 

It has been by some supposed, that a person might 
give a happier description of an object, of' an edifice, of 
a landscape, or other object, from the conception than from 
the actual perception of it. The perfection of a descrip- 



OF CONCEPTIONS. 231 

tion does not always consist in a minute specification of 
circumstances ; in general the description is better, when 
there is a judicious selection of them. The best rule for 
making the selection is, to attend to the particulars, that 
make the deepest impression on our own minds, or, what 
is the same thing, that most readily and distinctly take a 
place in our conceptions. — When the object is actually 
before us, it is extremely difficult to compare the impres- 
sions which different circumstances produce. When we 
afterwards conceive the object, we possess merely the out- 
line of it ; but it is an outline made up of the most striking 
circumstances. Those circumstances, it is true, will not 
impress all persons alike, but will somewhat vary with the 
degree of their taste. But when with a correct taste any 
one combines lively conceptions, and gives a description 
from those conceptions, he can hardly fail to succeed in it. 

§. 190. Of 'conceptions attended with a momentary belief. 

Our conceptions are sometimes attended with belief; 
when they are very lively, we are apt to ascribe to their 
objects a real existence or believe in them. It is not assert- 
ed by us, that the belief is permanent ; but a number of 
of facts strongly lead to the conclusion, that it has a mo- 
mentary existence. — (1) A painter in drawing the features 
and bodily form of an absent friend, may have so strong a 
conception, so vivid a mental picture, as to believe for a 
moment that his friend is before him. After carefully re- 
calling his thoughts at such times and reflecting upon them, 
almost every painter is ready to say, that he has experienced 
some illusions of this kind. It is true, the illusion is very 
short, because the intensity of conception, which is the 
foundation of it, can never be kept up long when the 
mind is in a sound state. Such intense conceptions are un- 
natural. And, further, all the surrounding objects of percep- 
tion, which no one can altogether disregard for any length 
of time, every now and then check the illusion and termi- 
nate it. — (2) Place a person on the battlements of a high 
tower ; his reason tells him he is in no danger ; he knows he 



232 OF CONCEPTIONS. 

is in none. But after all he is unable to look down from 
the battlements without fear ; his conceptions are so ex- 
ceedingly vivid as to induce a momentary belief of danger 
in opposition to all his reasonings. — (3) There are persons 
who are entirely convinced of the folly of the popular be- 
lief of ghosts and other nightly apparitions, but who 
cannot be persuaded to sleep in a room alone, nor go alone 
into a room in the dark. Whenever they happen out at 
night, they are constantly looking on every side ; their 
quickened conceptions behold images which never had 
any existence but in their own minds, and they are con- 
tinually in terror. In such cases we see the influence of the 
prejudices of the nursery. They were taught in early 
childhood to form conceptions of ghosts and other appari- 
tions, and the habit still continues. It is true, when they 
listen to their reasonings and philosophy, they may well 
say that they do not believe in such things. But the ef- 
fect of their philosophy is merely to check their belief; 
not in one case in a thousand is the belief entirely over- 
come. Every little while, in all solitary places, and espe- 
cially in the dark, it returns, and when banished returns 
again ; otherwise we cannot give any explanation of the 
conduct of these persons. 

§. 191. Conceptions which are joined with perceptions. 

The belief in our mere conceptions is the more evident 
and striking, whenever they are at any time joined with 
our perceptions. A person walking in a field in a thick 
foggy morning perceives something, rio matter what it is ; 
but he believes it to be a man, and does not doubt it. In 
other words, he truly perceives some object, and, in addi- 
tion to that perception, has a mental conception of a man 
attended with belief. When he has advanced a few feet 
further, all at once he perceives, that what he conceived 
to be a man is merely a stump with a few large stones pi- 
led on its top. He perceived at first, as plainly or but 
little short of it, that it was a stump, as in a moment after- 
wards ; there was the whole time very nearly the same 



OF CONCEPTIONS. !&63 

risible form and the same dimensions in his eye. But 
whatever he had in his eye, he certainly had in his mind 
the conception of a man, which overruled and annulled 
the natural effects of the visual perception ; the concep- 
tion being associated with a present visible object acqui- 
red peculiar strength and permanency so much so that he 
truly and firmly believed, that a human being was before 
him. But the conception has departed; the present ob- 
ject of perception has taken its place, and it is now impos- 
sible for him to conjure up the phantom, the reality of 
which he but just now had no doubt of. Maiay a per- 
son has waked up in the night and has firmly believed, 
that he saw a form clothed in white standing in an erect 
position at some paH of the room, but in a moment after 
the imaginary visitant has vanished, and there is nothing 
left but the reflection of the moonbeams on the wall. — In 
cases of this kind, where the conceptions are upheld, as it 
were, by present objects of perception, and receive a sort 
of permanency from them, nothing is better known, than 
that we often exercise a strong and unhesitating belief* 
These instances, therefore, can properly be considered as 
illustrating and confirming the views in the preceding sec- 
tion. 

$. 192. Of our conceptions at tragical representations* 

These observations suggest an explanation at least in 
part of the effects, which are produced on the mind by 
exhibitions of fictitious distress. In the representation of 
tragedies, it must be admitted, that there is a general con- 
viction of the whole being but a fiction. But, although 
persons enter the theatre with this general conviction, it 
does not always remain with them the whole time. At 
certain passages in the poet peculiarly interesting, and at 
certain exhibitions of powerful and well timed effort in 
the actor, this general impression, that all is a fiction, fails. 
The feelings of the spectator may be said to rush into the 
scenes ; he mingles in the events ; carried away and lost 
he for a moment believes all to be real, and the tears gush 
30 



354 ©F CONCEPTIONS. 

at the catastrophe which he witnesses. — The explanation, 
therefore, of the emotions felt at the exhibition of a trag- 
edy, such as indignation, pity, and abhorrence, is, that at 
certain parts of the exhibition we have a momentary belief 
in the reality of the events which are represented. And 
after the illustrations which have been given, such a belief 
cannot be considered impossible. The same explana- 
tion will apply to the emotions, which follow our reading 
of tragedies when alone, or any other natural and affecting 
descriptions. In the world of conceptions, which the ge- 
nius of the writer conjures up, we are transported out of the 
world of real existence, and for a while fully believe in the 
reality of what is only an incantation. 

$. 193. Of conceptions in connection with apparitions. 

The subject of apparitions was considered at chapter 
ninth. Apparitions were defined at §. 93 in that chapter 
to be appearances, which seem to be real, but which exist 
only in imagination ; that is, have only an imaginary exist- 
ence. And at §. 95, in the same chapter, it was replied in 
answer to the inquiry,— How merely imaginary appearan- 
ces can have so much the aspect of reality ? — that they are 
ideas or conceptions, in no ways differing from ordinary 
conceptions but this, that they are more vivid. It was fur- 
ther remarked, that the conceptions, in consequence of be- 
ing so much more vivid than common, are mistaken for the 
thing conceived of, — a state of the mind, which is brought 
about on the principles of association, for the real object, 
which was originally the cause of that state of mind. The 
conception of the man, of the mountain, the temple, or the 
procession, is so intense, so extremely vivid, that we a 
firmly believe them to be really in our view, as when at 
some former period we truly beheld them. This was thu 
statement given at chapter ninth. 

The statements made in the three last sections go a 
great ways in illustrating and confirming the views taker; 
in the chapter on Apparitions. If the doctrines in the 
three preceding sections be admitted, it follows, that every 



OF CONCEPTIONS. 23S 

person may have conceptions so very vivid as for a short 
time to arrest his belief. And no doubt every person does 
experience something of this kind, more or less in the 
course of his life.. 

Apparitions, however, differ from conceptions where 
there is only a momentary belief; otherwise they would 
not have been treated of as a separate subject. Vivid con- 
ceptions, attended with only a momentary belief, and which 
are continually checked and set right by surrounding ob- 
jects, do not unfit us for the common duties of life. Ap- 
paritions do unfit one for such duties ; they are always ow- 
ing, as appeared at §. 94, and other sections in the same 
chapter, to a disordered state of the mind either permanent 
or temporary. — They differ, therefore, from ordinary con- 
ceptions so vivid as to be attended with belief, in two re- 
spects. (1) They are greater m degree or the mental de- 
ceptions continue for a greater length of time. (2) They 
always imply a state of mind in some way disordered. — 
The causes of disordered states of mind is a subject of 
great difficulty, but as far as any light can be thrown up- 
on it, it is examined at the chapter above referred to, 
and in a remaining one on persons, who are insane. 
But it is of some consequence to remark, that cases of ap- 
paritions may be distinguished from cases of insanity. 
When a person professes to see objects, which his associ- 
ates and by-standers know are not present, it is too apt to 
be concluded, that he is deranged or insane in the usual 
sense of those terms. The mind is undoubtedly disorder- 
ed ; but if any one insists on calling it insanity, it must be 
admitted to be of a less permanent and less dangerous 
•kind, than commonly goes under that name. As an ev- 
idence, we refer to the case of Nicolai already given. 



236 

CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 



OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 



§. 194. Definition of abstract ideas and kinds of them. 

There is a division of our thoughts, to which the name of 
abstractions or abstract ideas is given, because by certain 
acts of the mind they are abstracted or separated, and are 
made subjects of consideration apart from other ideas, with 
which they are ordinarily found to be associated.— They 
may be divided into two classes, viz. particular abstract 
ideas, and general abstract ideas. — Of the first class the 
different kinds of colours may be mentioned as an in- 
stance. When any absent object of perception occurs to 
us, our thoughts will sometimes fix upon the colour and 
make that the subject of consideration, without particular- 
ly noticing other qualities of the object, such as weight, 
hardness, taste, form, &c. We may distinguish in any 
body its solidity from its extension, or we may direct our 
attention to its weight, or its length, or breadth, or thick- 
ness, and make any one of these a distinct object in our 
thoughts, even when it is impossible to separate them in 
the subject to which they belong. When any quality or 
attribute of an object, which does not exist by itself but 
always in a state of combination, is detached by our minds 
from its customary associates and is considered separately, 
it becomes a particular abstract idea. — By general ab- 
stract ideas we mean those states of mind, which stand for 
classes or the various genera and species of objects, such 
as are expressed by the general names, man, bird, sheep, 
fish, animal, &c. Thus we may consider those qualities 
in an object which will lead us to class it as an animal, 
without taking into view those which belong to it as a man 
or a bird ; or in looking at the various classes of animals 
we may consider them as men or as birds, and neglect and 
pass by those qualities, which in consequence of being 



OP ABSTRACT IDEAS. 237 

found in other animals cause them to be classed as differ- 
ent species. — These two classes seem to embrace all our 
abstract ideas whatever, but they are themselves so differ- 
ent from each other and also the intellectual processes by- 
means of which they exist, that they require some sepa- 
rate consideration. 

§.. 195. Of the formation of 'particular abstract ideas. 

The manner of expressing ourselves on the subject of 
our abstract notions, to which we have been accustomed, 
is apt to create and cherish in us a belief in the existence 
of a separate mental faculty, adapted solely to this* partic- 
ular purpose. We know not that there is any the least 
ground for such belief in the case of particular abstract 
ideas to which we shall first attend ; nor has the opinion, 
to which we allude, been altogether well founded in re- 
spect to the other class ; although, as will be seen, the in- 
tellectual process in the two cases is not precisely the 
same. — —The following statement will be sufficient to show, 
how those of the first class are formed. — Our ideas in the 
first place are received from the senses, and from the ob- 
servation of what takes place within us or reflection ; and 
however much they may have been decomposed at first, a 
large class of them are soon found to exist with a consider- 
able degree of permanency in a state of combination or 
are complex. It has sufficiently appeared, that these ideas 
are recalled to the mind in the absence of their appropri- 
ate objects by the principles of association, and also that 
the separate parts of all our complex notions are held to- 
gether in their state of combination by the same princi- 
ples. In every process of abstraction, which results in 
merely considering any single quality or attribute of an 
object separate from the rest, we have a desire to consider 
some part of the complex idea more particularly than the 
others. If any one object to the term desire, it is certain, 
that our attention is from some cause, whatever it may be, 
more particularly directed to such part ; and attention it- 
self seems to be nothing more than a particular direction 



238 Or ABSTRACT IDEAS. 

of the mind, accompanied with desire. When the mind 
is in this high degree directed to any particular part of a 
complex idea, we find it to be the fact, that the principle 
of association, which keeps the other parts in their state 
of union with it, ceases in a corresponding degree to op- 
erate ; they rapidly fall off and disappear, and the partic- 
ular quality or attribute, towards which the mind was es- 
pecially directed, remains the sole subject of consider^ 
ation. That is to say, it is abstracted or becomes an ab- 
stract idea. 

This in the formation of particular abstract ideas seems 
to be the process of the mind, and nothing more ; viz. 
Some feeling of desire or choice in respect to a part of the 
complex idea, accompanied with the exercise of associa- 
tion, (1) in suggesting to the mind the complex idea, and 
(2) in ceasing to retain the parts of it, towards which at- 
tention is not directed. Such is the activity of the mind, 
and in so many ways it views the "images of things," that 
this striking process of detaching, and examining, and re- I 
placing, and changing the parts of our complex notions, 
is almost constantly going on. And after the mind has 
thus shifted its position, and has been now in this state and 
now in that, as if playfully to show its wonderful readiness 
in diminishing itself to a part of its previous complexity, it 
seems as readily to swell back again, if we may be allowed 
in such figurative expressions, to its former dimensions, 
and exists the same as before the process of abstractioa 
commenced. 

§. 196. Of generalizations of particular abstract ideas. 

When we speak of the generalizing of this class of ab- 
stract ideas, it seems to be chiefly meant, that in our ex- 
perience of things we observe them to be common to many 
subjects. We find whiteness to be a quality of snow, of 
chalk, of milk, and of other bodies; and whenever with 
the simple abstract notion of whiteness we connect in 
our thoughts the additional circumstance of its not being 
limited to one body bu,t the property of many, the term 



OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 239 

Way be said to be generalized. And this seems to be all, 
that can be properly understood by generalization when ap- 
plied to the states of mind which we are now considering. 

§. 197. Of particular abstractions in poetry, paintingfoc* 

The process of abstraction, which is gone through in 
the formation of particular abstract ideas, is greatly sub- 
servient to the exertions of a creative imagination, as they 
appear in painting, poetry, and the other fine arts. — The 
poet and the painter are supplied with their materials from 
experience : without having received ideas from some 
source, they never could have practised their art. But if 
they do not restrict themselves to mere imitation, they 
must combine and modify the ideas which they have, so as 
to be able to form new creations of their own. But every 
exertion of this kind which they make of their powers, pre- 
supposes the exercise of abstraction in decomposing and 
separating actual conceptions and in forming them anew. 
See "in connection with this section the chapter on imagin- 
ation. 

§. 198. Of general abstract ideas. 

We are now to remark upon the second class. Gen- 
eral abstract ideas are our notions of the classes, or genera 
and species of objects. — As they include classes, it is 
hardly necessary to observe, that we cannot possess them 
without first considering two or more objects together. 
We may form, on the contrary, those of the first class or 
particular abstract ideas by considering individual objects 
merely. 

Whenever, therefore, we see a number of trees of the 
same kind, or a number of flowers, or of men, or of horses, 
or sheep, the mind immediately exists in that state, which, 
when we think fit to give it a name, we call a general 
abstract idea. 

This general idea, however, does not embrace every 
particular, which makes a part of the individuals before us ; 
it leaves out of consideration certain peculiarities which 



240 OF ABSTRACT IDEA.S* 

belong to each tree, each flower, man, &c. when separate- 
ly considered. And this is the reason of ideas of this 
kind being called abstract ; because, although they em- 
brace the whole number of individuals in certain respects, 
they detach and leave out altogether a variety of particu- 
lars in which they disagree. — As soon, therefore, as we per- 
ceive a number of objects before us of the same kind, we at 
once virtually dismiss from our view these circumtances 
of disagreement, and the mind exists, as above remarked, in 
anew state, which is essentially a feeling of resemblance. 
So that those mental states, which when put into words 
may be called feelings or immediate mental discoveries of 
the relation of resemblance in a number of objects, consti- 
tute what we understand by general abstract ideas, and 
these, as far as the mind is concerned and leaving out the 

names, are the true ideas of genera and species. But as a 

question may arise in the minds of some in regard to this 
feeling of resemblance, it is proper, in order to meet any 
such inquiries briefly to remark further. 

§. 199. Of relative suggestions or perceptions of relations. 

Nothing is more evident than that the objects, which we 
perceive, are in some way compared, one with another ; 
and that we learn, when such comparisons take place, how 
they conform to each other or how they differ. We com- 
pare objects together in respect to their position, their re- 
semblance, degrees, and in a great variety of respects, as 
was particularly seen at chapter eighth in the remarks 
there made on ideas of relation. This is conformable 
to the general experience of men. — The result of thus con- 
sidering objects together is certain new states of the mind, 
which may be called ideas of relation or feelings of rela- 
tion, and which are essentially different from our simple 
perceptions or conceptions of the objects that sustain the 
relation. — But the inquiry arises, By virtue of what princi- 
ple is this discovery of relations made ? The answer is, 
that there is in the mind an original tendency or suscepti- 
bility, by means of which, whenever we perceive different 



OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 



241 



objects together, we are instantly, without the intervention 
of any other mental process, sensible of their relation in 
certain respects. 

We may here give an illustration of the exercise of 
this original susceptibility similar to those already given. 
When a number of objects are together, belonging to the 
same species, as two or more sheep, or horses, or men, or 
trees, or flowers, the mind immediately exists in that state, 
which constitutes the feeling of resemblance. Here be- 
side the mere perception of the objects we experience a 
feeling of relation, since that resemblance in the objects 
before us of which we are conscious is one of the many 
kinds of relation, of the perception of which the mind has 
been asserted to be originally susceptible. It is by means 
of this original susceptibility of relations, as it exhibits it- 
self in particular in the perception of the relation of resem- 
blance, that all of that class which we term general abstract 
ideas are formed. None we imagine can be formed without it. 
All this we know is to be decided, not by the opinions 
and assertions of an individual, but by the general ex- 
perience. In any doctrines, which are laid down in regard 
to the mind, every person has a right to give his testimony ; 
and whenever that testimony is a correct representation of 
the intellectual processes, it is valuable., whatever may be 
its tendency. But it is confidently thought, that nothing 
more is wanted, than an appeal to what men generally 
find themselves conscious of, to confirm the above views. 

For a particular defence of the doctrine, that we have 

an original susceptibility of perceiving or feeling the relations 
of objects, the reader is referred to what is said on the sub- 
ject in Brown's Philosophy of the Mind, who has entered 
into the investigation of it at greater length, than can be 
permitted here. 

§. 200. Of the classifications of objects. 

In the classification of objects and in giving general 
names, the process after what has been said cannot be 
thought to be either long or difficult.- — -The first step is 
31 



242 OF ikSSTKACT IlJEASv 

the perception of two or more objects, which constitute* 
one state of mind. The second is the feeling of resem- 
blance, which is the general idea. Guided by the feeling 
of resemblance, we are enabled to say, what objects come 
within the limits of a particular class, and what do not. 
The name, which is given to the general idea, is what in 
treatises of Logick is called the general name or genera and 
species. See in connection with this §. 117 — 119. 

$. 201. Of general abstract ideas in connection with 
numbers, &e. 

The ability which the mind possesses of forming gener- 
al abstract ideas is of much practical importance; but 
whether it be the characteristical attribute of a rational 
nature or not, as some have supposed, it is not necessary 
now to inquire. Its subserviency in the forming of classi- 
fications has already been seen. And it is further to be 

remarked, that without that mental susceptibility, by which 
we form general notions, we should not be able to number t 
even in the smallest degree. Before we can consider ob- 
jects as forming a multitude, or are able to number them, 
it seems necessary to be able to apply to them a common 
name. This we cannot do, until we have reduced them 
to a genus ; and the formation of a genus implies a men- 
tal susceptibility of feeling the relation of resemblance. 
Consequently, we should be unable without such mental sus- 
ceptibility to number. How great then is the practical 

importance of that intellectual property, by which general 
abstractions are formed ! — Without the ability to number, 
we should be at a loss in all investigations where this abil- 
ity is required ; without the power to classify, all our spec- 
ulations must be limited to particulars, and we should be 
capable of no general reasoning. 

§. 202. Of the speculations of philosophers and others. 

There ip a characteristical difference between the spec- 
ulations of philosophers and thoVe of the common tmss of 



OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 243 

people, worthy of some notice. The difference between 
the two is not so much, that philosophers are accustomed 
to carry on processes of reasoning to a greater extent, as 
this ; that they are more in the habit of employing general 
abstract ideas and general terms, and that, consequently, 
the conclusions which they form are more comprehensive. 
Nor are their general reasonings, although the conclusions 
at which they arrive seem in their particular applications 
to indicate wonderful fertility of invention, so difficult in 
the performance, as is apt to be supposed. They have so 
often and so long looked at general ideas and general 
propositions, have been so accustomed, as one may say, to 
contemplate the general nature of things, divested of all 
superfluous and all specifick circumstances, that they have 
formed a habit; and the operation is performed without 
difficulty. It requires in such persons no greater intellec- 
tual effort, than would be necessary in skilfully managing 
the details of ordinary business. 

The speculations of the great bulk of mankind differ 
from those of philosophers in being, both in the subjects 
of them and in their results^ particular. They discover an 
inability to enlarge their view to universal propositions, 
which embrace a great number of individuals. They may 
possess the power of mere argument, of comparing propo- 
sitions together which concern particulars, and deducing 
inferences from them to a great degree ; but when they 
attempt to contemplate general propositions, their minds 
are perplexed, and the conclusions which are drawn from 
them appear obscure, however clearly the previous pro- 
cess of reasoning may have been expressed. 

§. 203. Of different opinions formerly prevailing. 

The subject of general abstract ideas, of which we 
have given a summary view, excited very considerable in- 
terest during the scholastick ages ; and different opinions 
have prevailed concerning them, not only at that period 
but more or less down to the present time. The disputes 
so widely prevailed, and so much interest was taken, that 



244 OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 

it seems to be necessary to give a short sketch of them, 
In this discussion there have been three parties, viz. 
the Realists, the Nominalists, and the Conceptualists. 

§. 204. Of the opinions of the Realists. 

Those, who go under this name, held, that general 
abstract ideas have a real and permanent existence, inde- 
pendent of the mind. Of a man, of a rose, of a circle, and 
of every species of things, they maintained, that there is 
one original form or archetype, which existed from eterni- 
ty, before any individuals of the species were created. 
This original model or archetype is the pattern, according 
to which the individuals of all species are in the most im- 
portant respects formed. The archetype, which is under- 
stood to embrace only the outlines or generick features of 
things, becomes an object of perception to the human in- 
lect, whenever by due abstraction we discern it to be one 
in all the individuals of the species. Such was the doc- 
trine of the Realists, which in its most essential respects 
was very widely received from the time of Plato and Aris- 
totle down to the commencement of the 12th century. 
But since that period, excepting a few ineffectual attempts 
which have been made from time to time to revive it, it 
has fallen into as general disrepute, on the ground of its 
being too hypothetical and not sufficiently sustained by facts. 

§. 205. Of the opinions of the Nominalists. 

About the commencement of the 12th century, Rosce- 
Jinus, the instructer of Abelard, whose name occupies so 
conspicuous a place in the history of scholastick learning, 
proposed a, new hypothesis. He maintained, not only that 
there are no original forms or archetypes, such as had 
been asserted to exist by the Realists, but that there are no 
universal abstract ideas of any kind. On the contrary, it 
seems to have been his opinion, as well as the sentiment 
of those who have subsequently approved of this doctrine, 
that nothing can be called general or universal but names, 
&;ind that even to them universality can be ascribed only virr 



OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 245 

tually, and not in the strict and literal sense of the term.— 
That is, the names are in the first instance given to indi- 
viduals, but when any individuals are specified, the na- 
ture of the mind is such, that we naturally and immediate- 
ly think of other individuals of the same kind. So that 
the names are in fact particular, although owing to the 
principle which we now term association, the practical ef- 
fect is the same as if it were otherwise, and hence the ep- 
ithets "general "and "universal" are applied to them. 
This opinion in respect to general ideas and names, or 
some doctrine essentially of this description has found 
many advocates from Roscelinus and the enthusiastick 
Abelard down to Dugald Stewart. 

§. 206. Of the opinions of the Conceptualists. 

Those, who hold to the actual existence of general ab- 
stract ideas, which are not permanent archetypes indepen- 
dent of the mind, but only states of the mind, have gener- 
ally been called Conceptualists. We have already given 
what we suppose to be the true mental process in the for- 
mation of such ideas. Whether we can have such ideas 
is best decided by each one's personal experience ; and it 
can hardly be doubted, notwithstanding the refined argu- 
ments of Mr. Stewart and others, in what way such a ques- 
tion will be generally answered. 

As far as the Realists are concerned the mere state- 
ment of their doctrine is sufficient at the present day to 
ensure its immediate rejection. The question lies then 
between the Nominalists, and those who have commonly 
been called Conceptualists ; and if there be insuperable 
objections to the doctrine of the former, that of the latter 
enhances its claims on our adoption. 

Some of the objections to the sentiments of Roscelinus 
and those who have thought with him are forcibly summed 
up in the following passage from Brown's Philosophy of 
the Mind. 

"Of that rigid Nominalism, which involves truly no mix- 
ture of Conceptualism or of the belief of those feelings of 



lit} OF ABSTRACT IDEAS. 

relation for which I have contended, but denies altogether 
the existence of that peculiar class of feelings, or states of 
mind which have been denominated general notions, or 
general ideas, asserting the existence only of individual 
objects perceived, and of general terms that comprehend 
these, without any peculiar mental state denoted by the 
general term, distinct from those separate sensations or 
perceptions which the particular objects, comprehended 
under the term, might individually excite, — it seems to me 
that the very statement of the opinion itself is almost a 
sufficient confutation, since the very invention of the gen- 
eral term, and the extension of it to certain objects only ? 
not to all objects, implies some reason for this limitation,— 
some feeling of general agreement of the objects included 
in the class, to distinguish them from the objects not in- 
cluded in it, which is itself that very general notion pro- 
fessedly denied. As long as some general notion of cir- 
cumstances of resemblance is admitted, I see very clearly 
how a general term may be most accurately limited ; but 
if this general notion be denied, I confess that I cannot 
discover any principle of limitation whatever. Why have 
certain objects been classed together, and not certain other 
objects, when all have been alike perceived by us ; and 
all, therefore, if there be nothing more than mere percep- 
tion in the process, are capable of receiving any denomin- 
ation which we may please to bestow on them ? Is it ar- 
bitrarily, and without any reason whatever, that we do not 
class a rose-bush with birds, or an elephant with fish ? and 
if there be any reason for these exclusions, why will not 
the Nominalist tell us what that reason is — in what feeling 
it is found — and how it can be made accordant with his 
system ? Must it not be that the rose-bush and a sparro\v t 
though equally perceived by us, do not excite that gener- 
al notion of resemblance which the term bird is invented 
to express — do not seem to us to have those relations of a 
common nature, in certain respects, which lead us to class 
the sparrow and the ostrich, however different in other re- 
Hpects, as birds ; or the petty natives of our brooks and 
rivulets with the mighty monsters of the deep, under one 



OF ABSTRACT IDLAi. 347 

general and equal denomination f If this be the reason, 
there is more, in every case, than perception, and the giv- 
ing of a general name ; for there is a peculiar state of 
mind — a general relative feeling — intervening between 
the perception and the invention of the term, which 
is the only reason that can be assigned for that very inven- 
tion. Can the Nominalist then assert, that there is no 
feeling of the resemblance of objects, in certain respects, 
which thus intervenes between the perception of them as 
separate objects, which is one stage of the process, and the 
comprehension of them under a single name, which is 
another stage of the process,; — or must he not rather con- 
fess, that it is merely in consequence of this interven- 
ing feeling we give to the number of objects their gen- 
eral name, to the exclusion of the multitudes of objects 
to which we do not apply it, as it is in consequence of 
certain other feelings, excited by them individually, we 
give to each separate object its proper name, to the exclu- 
sion of every other object ? To repeat the process, as al- 
ready described to you, we perceive two or more objects, 
— we are struck with their resemblance in certain respects. 
We invent a general name to denote this feeling of resem- 
blance, and we class under this general name, every par- 
ticular object, the perception of which is followed by the 
same feeling of resemblance, and no object but these alone. 
If this be a faithful statement of the process, — and for its 
fidelity I may safely appeal to your consciousness, — the 
doctrine of the Nominalists is not less false than that of 
the Realists. It is false, because it excludes that general 
feeling of resemblance, — the relative suggestion, — which 
is all that the general name itself truly designates, and 
without which, therefore, it never would have been invent- 
ed ; while the doctrine of the Realists is false, by insert- 
ing in the process those supposed separate entities, which 
form no part of it. The one errs, as I have already said, 
by excess, the other by deficiency." 



24& OF ABSTRACT iDfcAS. 

§. 207. Of histories of philosophical opinions. 

We pass from the view, which has been given of differ- 
ent opinions on the subject of general abstract ideas, to re- 
mark on certain histories of philosophical opinions in gen- 
eral. We consider the great principles of intellectual 
philosophy at present for the most part well settled, and 
whatever discrepancies apparently exist, as owing in a ma- 
jority of cases rather to differences of statement than dif- 
ferences of belief. But still it is sometimes important to 
look back and see what has in former times been said and 
thought ; an exercise, which cannot fail to evince the 
strength of prejudices, the evident fallibility of the under- 
standing, and the necessity of cherishing a sincere love of 
truth. 

In the following works will be found all that will be 
necessary to be known concerning the dispute on general 
or universal ideas, as also the history of other philosoph- 
ical controversies and opinions almost without number* 
The most part of them at present excite not the least in- 
terest, except as memorials of the struggles of the human 
mind in past ages. 

(1) Bayle's Historical and Critical Dictionary. This 

great work was first published in two folio volumes in 1697* 
It consists of two parts ; one of which is a concise narra- 
tion of facts, and the other a sort of commentary on them. 
The work contains very numerous illustrations of the his- 
tory of philosophy, and treats many difficult subjects with 
independence and ability. And still we find some diffi- 
culty in mentioning it with much commendation, since, in 
the opinion of a most competent judge, it has a tendency 
to unsettle the principles of superficial readers, and to damp 
the moral ardour of youth by weakening their belief in the 
reality of virtue. 

(2) Brucker*s Critical History of Philosophy. This 

work was first published at Leipsic in 1744 in Latin, exten- 
ding through five quarto volumes. The author gives a 
biographical sketch of ihe lives of different ancient and 
modern philosophers, reviews their writings, and explains 



OF ABSTRACT 1PEAS. 249 

their particular systems. This great work, the result of 
fifty year's labour of a hard and honest student, is particu- 
larly valuable, as a book of reference for those, who have 
devoted themselves to philosophical researches. There 
has been published an abridged translation of it into Eng- 
lish by Enfield. 

(3) M. De Gerandoh History of Philosophical Systems. — > — 
This work, first published in 1802, is in French, and we 
know not, that it has ever been translated, but on account 
of its acknowledged merits it cannot well be passed by ; 
and also because it is frequently referred to by English 
writers on these subjects. M. De Gerando does not un- 
dertake to give a complete account of the progress of in- 
tellectual science ; his main object seems to be to recapit- 
ulate the opinions of the most eminent ancient and modern 
philosophers on a particular point, viz. the sources and cer- 
tainty of knowledge. His work is divided into five pe- 
riods. The first period comprises the time anterior to 

Socrates ; the second comes down to the age of Cicero ; 
in the third, which ends with the close of the seventh cen- 
tury, we have an account of the decline and fall of philos- 
ophy ; the fourth reaches from the seventh century to the 
time of Des Cartes and Bacon ; the fifth and last continues 
the subject to the present century. An opinion of the val- 
ue of this work, and a translation of some extracts from it, 
are given in the North American Review of April, 1824 ; 
which can be consulted by those, who wish to know fur- 
ther. 

(4) Stewarfs Progress of Metaphysical, Ethical, and Polk' 
teal Philosophy. This interesting work originally ap- 
peared in the form of a Preliminary Dissertation to the sup- 
plemental volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica ; and 
includes merely the period since the revival of letters in 
Europe. As one reason for limiting his retrospect to a 
period extending no further back than the revival of let- 
ters, the writer expresses an opinion, that the sciences, of 
which he treats, present but little matter for useful remark, 

prior to the time of Lord Bacon. Perhaps no one of the 

excellent works of Mr. Stewart is more worthy the student's 

32 



2§0 



OF BREAMING. 



attention than this ; whether we consider the richness and 
polish of his style, or that admirable discrimination, with 
which he detects, apparently by a sort of kindred intuition* 
the characteristicks both of systems and of individual 

minds. There are also, both in the English and foreign 

languages, other works and treatises of greater or less ex- 
tent and value, which may profitably be referred to in ex- 
amining the history of philosophical opinions* 



CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 



OF DREAMING. 



§.■ 208. A knowledge of our dreams interesting. 

Dreams are our mental states or operations while we 
are asleep. They are among the most curious phenom- 
ena of the mind, and there is much difficulty at pres- 
ent in giving a full and satisfactory explanation of them. 

The intellectual states, which go under this name, 

have ever excited much interest, and a man no less wise 
and practical than Dr. Franklin has written a charac- 
teristick pieee f entitled, The Art of procuring Pleasant 
Dreams. But the further one goes back into antiquity, the 
interest taken in them, especially among the ignorant, will 
be found to be increased. We learn in the earliest re- 
cords of history, that they were regarded as supernatural, 
and as conveying prophetick intimations. This notion still 
lingers among the common people even to our own times, 
although in a diminished degree ; and even men of infor- 
mation and of some tincture of philosophy have not always 
been wholly undisturbed by them. 

So great was the superstition respecting dreams among 
the Romans, that the emperor Augustus, who might have 
b«cn expected to rise above it, took particular notice of 
tht time of year, when his dreams were most unfavoura- 



OF DREAMING. 251 

ble. It is also said of him, that, on a certain day of every 
year, he acted the part of a publick beggar, in conse- 
quence of a vision, and received alms of those, who were 
willing to give him small sums of money. In the reign of 
Antoninus Pius, one Artemidorus spent his whole time in 
going about collecting dreams and finally published the 
fruits of his labours in a large work still extant entitled 
oneirocritus. The superstitions among the Ancients in 
respect to dreams w r ere very similar to what have been 
found to exist among the Indian tribes of North America. 

But, laying out of the account the superstitions, which 

have given to our intellectual operations while we are 
asleep so much importance, there are other reasons for 
taking an interest in them, of which the philosopher need 
not be ashamed. And of these one is enough to justify 
us in this inquiry ; viz. That dreams form no inconsider- 
able part of our intellectual experiences, and all the know ? l- 
«dge of them which we acquire is an accession to our 
-knowledge of the principles of the mind in general. 

§. 209. Of the prevalence of dreaming. 

It is perhaps one reason of the attention, which the sub- 
ject of our dreams has ever excited, among all classes of 
people, that they are so prevalent ; it being very difficult, 
if not impossible, to find one, who has not had more or 
less of this experience. Mr. Locke, however, tells us of a 
person, who never dreamed till the twenty sixth year of 
his age, when he happened to have a fever, and then 
dreamed for the first time. Plutarch also mentions one 
Cleon, a friend of his, who lived to an advanced age, and 
yet had never dreamed once in his life, and remarks, that 
he had heard the same thing reported of Thrasymedes. 

Undoubtedly these persons dreamed very seldom, as 
w-e find that some dream much more than others ; but it is 
possible, that they may have dreamed at some times, and 
entirely forgotten it. So that it cannot with certainty be 
inferred from such instances as these, that thee are any, 
who are entirely free from dreaming. 



252 OF BREAMING. 

§. 210. Dreams are often caused by our sensations. 

The first fact, which we notice in the explanation of 
the mental states, which go under the name of dreaming, 
is, that they are intimately connected with our bodily sen- 
sations, and are often caused by them. 

Dugald Stewart relates an incident, which may be con- 
sidered an evidence of this, that a person, with whom he 
was acquainted, had occasion, in consequence of an in- 
disposition, to apply a bottle of hot water to his feet, when 
he went to bed, and the consequence was, that he dreamed 
he was making a journey to the top of mount ^Etna, and 
that he found the heat of the ground almost insupportable. 
There was once a gentleman in the English army, who 
was so susceptible of audible impressions, while he was 
asleep, that his companions could make him dream of 
what they pleased. Once, in particular, they made him 
go through the whole process of a duel, from the prelimin- 
ary arrangements to the firing of the pistol, which they 
put into his hand for that purpose, and which, when it ex- 
ploded, waked him. 

Sometimes the impressions on our senses do not merely 
suggest our dreaming thoughts and give a character to 
them, but appear to mingle with, and make a part of the 
train. If a person speak to us when in sleep, but his call 
is not effectual in waking us, the voice sometimes becomes 
an additional portion of our sleeping experiences. 

A cause of dreams closely allied to the above is the va- 
riety of sensations, which we experience from the stomach, 
viscera, &c. 

Persons, for instance, who have been for a long time 
deprived of food, or have received it only in small quanti- 
ties hardly enough to preserve life, will be likely to have 
dreams, in some way or other directly relating to their 
condition. Baron Trenck relates, that being almost dead 
with hunger, when confined in his dungeon, his dreams 
every night presented to him the well filled and luxurious 
tables of Berlin, from which, as they were presented be- 
fore him, he imagined he was about to relieve his hunger. 



OF DREAMING. 253 

§. 211. Dreams influenced by disposition, health, kc. 

It is a circumstance worthy of notice, that the charac- 
ter of dreams depends in a considerable measure on the 
character of the person himself, whether he be cheerful, 
or inclining to melancholy ; whether he be a great reason- 
er, or of a quick and creative imagination. And, accor- 
dingly, as the one or the other of these characteristicks 
predominates, the person dreaming will be apt to find him- 
self in sad or joyful situations, creating airy castles or 
puzzling himself over difficult propositions, or in such oth- 
er circumstances,- as may correspond to his previous men- 
tal tendencies. 

The state of the health also has considerable influence, 
not only in producing dreams, but in giving them a par- 
ticular character. The observation has been made by 
medical men, who have it in their power to give much in- 
formation, illustrative of our mental condition, that acute 
diseases, particularly fevers, are often preceded and indi- 
cated by disagreeable and oppressive dreams ; aad also 
that some temperaments are more subject to dreams than 
others ; the sanguine more frequently than the phlegmatick. 

§. 212. Connection of dreams with our waking thoughts. 

The great multitude of our waking thoughts appear in 
the form of trains of associations ; and these trains of asso- 
ciated ideas, in greater or less continuity, and with greater 
or less variation, continue when we are asleep. The facts 
stated in the preceding section are an evidence of this, it 
appearing from them, that our dreams assume a character 
from our general disposition and mental habits. 

There is also another circumstance going in evidence 
of this supposition. We find none of our associated recol- 
lections more strongly linked to each other and more fre- 
quently presenting themselves to the mind, than the remem- 
brances of the scenes and occurrences of childhood and 
youth. And it has been remarked (probably with truth) that 



254 OF DREAMING. 

those scenes and occurrences occur to the mind in our 
dreams more frequently than almost any others. 

It has been observed, that there are probably few math- 
ematicians, who have not dreamed of an interesting prob- 
lem. Condorcet told some one, that, while he was enga- 
ged in abstruse and profound calculations, he was frequent- 
ly obliged to leave them in an unfinished state, in order to 
retire to rest ; and that the remaining steps and the con- 
clusion of his calculations have more than once presented 

themselves in his dreams. Franklin also has made the 

remark, that the bearings and results of political events, 
which had caused him much trouble while awake, were not 
unfrequently unfolded to him in dreaming. The orator 
presses home his arguments with renewed energy, when 
his senses are locked up in slumber ; and the poet finds 
himself transported into those Elysian regions, which were 
created by his waking imaginations. 

It seems clearly to follow from some circumstances of 
this kind, that our dreams are fashioned from the materials 
of the thoughts which we have while awake ; in other 
words, they will, in a great degree, be merely the repeti- 
tion of our customary and prevailing associations. 

§. 213. Dreams have the appearance of reality. 

When objects are presented to us in dreams, we look 
upon them as real ; and events, and combinations and se- 
ries of events appear the same. We feel the same interest 
and resort to the same expedients, as in the perplexities or 
enjoyments of real life. When persons are introduced, as 
forming a part in the transactions of our dreams, we see 
them clearly in their living attitudes and stature ; we con- 
verse with them, and hear them speak, and behold them 
move, as if actually present. 

The prominent reasons of this greater vividness of our 
dreaming conceptions, and our firm belief in their reality 
seem to be these. — The subjects, upon which our thoughts 
are then employed, occupy the mind exclusively. We 
-can form a clearer conception of an object with our eye» 



OF DREAMING. 255 

shut, than we can with them open, as any one will be con- 
vinced on making the experiment ; and the liveliness of 
the conception will increase in proportion as we can sus- 
pend the exercise of all the other senses. 

But in sound sleep, not only the sight, but the other 
senses also may be said to be closed ; and the attention is 
not continually diverted by the multitude of objects, which 
arrest the hearing and touch, when we are awake. 

It is, therefore, a most natural supposition, that our 
conceptions must at such times be extremely vivid and dis- 
tinct. At §. 190, we particularly remarked upon concep- 
tions or those ideas which we have of absent objects of 
perception, which possess this character. And it there 
appeared, that they might be attended with a momentary 
belief even when we are awake. But as conceptions ex- 
ist in the mind when we are asleep in a much higher de- 
gree distinct and vivid, what was in the former case a mo- 
mentary, becomes in the latter a permanent belief. — Hence 
every thing has the appearance of reality ; and the mere 
thoughts of the mind are virtually transformed into persons, 
and varieties of situation, and events, which are regarded 
by us in precisely the same light, as the persons, and situ- 
ations, and events of our every day's experience. -And 

here we have an explanation of what many individuals 
have experienced. They endeavour to recall the image 
of some departed friend, but their efforts are in a great 
measure unavailing, and they find they have but a very in- 
distinct conception. On the contrary in sleep, when the 
mind is undisturbed by surrounding objects, the concep- 
tion gathers strength ; it becomes more and more distinct- 
ly defined and bright ; and there is a clear vision of the 
form, which they had deeply thought upon, and long wish- 
ed to see. 

§. 214. Influence of volition suspended in dreaming. 

There is frequently much of wildness, inconsistency, 
and contradiction in our dreams. The mind passes very 
rapidly from one object to another ; strange and singular 



256 



OF DREAMING?. 



incidents occur, and yet in general there is no emotion of 
surprise. If our dreams be truly the repetition of our 
waking associations, it may well be inquired, how this 
wildness and inconsistency happen ? 

The fact, which explains this, is, that, when we are 
asleep, our associated trains of thought are no longer un- 
der the control of the mental power or susceptibility, 
which we term the will. We do not mean to say, that 
the susceptibility, by which we exercise volitions, or 
the will itself is suspended, and has no existence at 
such times. — On the contrary, there is sufficient evi- 
dence of the continuance of its exercises in some degree ; 
since volitions must have made a part of the original 
trains of thought, which are repeated in dreaming ; and 
furthermore, we are often as conscious of exercising or 
putting forth volitions when dreaming as of any other 
mental acts, for instance, imagining, remembering, assent- 
ing, or reasoning. When we dream, that we are attacked 
by an enemy sword in hand, but happen as we suppose in 
our dreaming experiences, to be furnished in self-defence 
with an instrument of the same kind, we dream, that we 
will to plunge it into the body of our antagonist, and we 
as truly in this case put forth the mental exercise which 
we term a volition, as, in any other, we exercise remem- 
brance, or imagine, or reason in our sleep. 

But admitting that the power or susceptibility of will- 
ing is entirely retained in sleep, it is quite evident, that 
the volitions, which are put forth by it, have ceased to ex- 
ercise their customary influence, both in respect to other 
mental acts, and, particularly, in regard to the members 
of the body. Of the general truth of the last remark no 
one presumes to doubt. It is indeed true, that our vital 
and involuntary motions go on essentially the same as 
when we are awake, but it is unnecessary to observe, that 
these do not come into consideration here. The reg- 
ulation of the voluntary movements of the members of the 
body is placed beyond our reach, with some slight excep- 
tions hereafter to be mentioned. In regard to the other 

point, it will be remembered, that we have already consid- 



OF DREAMING. 257 

ered it at §. 173, which concerned the power of the will 
over our associated trains of thought. The conclusion, to 
which we there arrived, was, that, although we have no 
direct, we have an indirect power over the successions of 
thought, which is very considerable ; for instance, we fix 
our attention upon some particular part of any general sub- 
ject, which has been suggested, and thus give a new di- 
rection to the whole train of mental operations. Although 
this power, which we thus exercise, is indirect, we justly 
consider it a voluntary power, and attribute it to the facul- 
ty of the will. But the moment we are soundly asleep, 
this influence ceases, and hence arise the wildness, inco- 
herency, and contradictions in dreaming ? which have been 
mentioned. 

A person while he is awake has his thoughts, (admitting 
to the full extent the power, which is commonly ascribed 
to association,) under such government, and is able, by the 
indirect influence of volitions, so to direct them, as to bring 
them in the end to some conclusion, which he foresees and 
which he wishes to arrive at. But in dreaming, as all di- 
recting and governing influence is at an end, our associa- 
tions seem to be driven forward, much like a ship at sea 
without a rudder, wherever it may happen. 

§. 215. Further remarks on apparent reality of dreams. 

The striking circumstance, that our dreams have the 
appearance of reality, has already been noticed ; and an 
explanation given. If that explanation, allowing to it its 
full weight, should appear to any hardly sufficient to ex- 
plain so extraordinary a fact, the last section suggests an- 
other reason, which may be supposed to combine its in- 
fluence with that of the explanation already proposed, viz. 
Our conceptions have to us the appearance of reality ivhen 
dreaming, because they cannot be controlled, either directly or 

indirectly, by our volitions. We cannot, admit this as the 

sole reason of the belief, but suppose, it combines its in- 
fluence with that of the circumstances already mentioned, 
and that this influence mav be very considerable. 
33 



258 ' OF BREAMING. 

But still the question remains to be looked into. — How 
does it happen, that our dreaming thoughts appear to be 
real, because they are not in any way controllable by voli- 
tions ? In answer to this inquiry, it is to be observed, 

that we are so formed as almost invariably to associate reality 
with whatever objects of perception continue to produce in 
us the same effects. A hard or soft body/or any substance 
of a particular colour, or taste, or smell, are always, when 
presented to our senses, followed by certain states of mind 
essentially the same ; and we yield the most ready and 
firm belief in the existence of such objects. In a word, 
we are disposed from our very constitution to believe in 
the existence of objects of perception, the perceptions of 
which do not depend on the will, but which we find to 
be followed by certain states of the mind, whether we 

choose it or not. But it is to be recollected, that our 

dreaming thoughts are mere conceptions ; our senses be- 
ing closed and shut up, and external objects not being pre- 
sented to them. This is true. But if we conclude in favour 
of the real existence of objects of perception, because they 
produce in us ideas independently of our volitions, it is* 
but natural to suppose, that we shall believe in our con- 
ceptions also, whenever they are in like manner beyond 
our voluntary control. They are both merely states of the 
mind ; and if belief always attends our perceptions, wher- 
ever we find them to be independent of our choice, there 
is no reason, why conceptions, which are ideas of absent 
objects of perception, should not be attended with a like 
belief under the same circumstances. — And essentially 
the same circumstances exist in dreaming ; that is, a 
train of conceptions arises in the mind, and we are con- 
scious at such times of being unable to exercise any direc- 
tion or control whatever over them. 

§. 216. Of our estimate of time in dreaming. 

Our estimate of time in dreaming differs from that 
when awake. Events, which would take whole days or a 
longer time in the performance, are dreamt in a few mo- 



OP DREAMING. 259 

ments. So wonderful is this compression of a multitude 
of transactions into the very shortest period, that, when we 
are accidentally awakened by the jarring of a door, which 
is opened into the room where we are sleeping, we some- 
times dream of depredations by thieves, or of destruction 

by fire, in the very instant of our awaking. Our dreams 

will not unfrequently go through all the particulars of a 
passage of the Alps, or of a military expedition to Moscow, 
or of a circumnavigation of the globe, or of other long and 
perilous undertakings, in a less number of hours, than it 
took weeks, or months, or even years in the actual per- 
formance of them. We go from land to land, and from 
city to city, and into desert places ; we experience transi- 
tions from joy to sorrow, and from poverty to wealth ; we 
are occupied in the scenes aiad transactions of many long 
months; and then our slumbers are scattered, and, behold, 
they are the doings of a single watch of the night! 

This striking circumstance in the history of our dreams 
is generally explained by supposing, that our thoughts, as 
they successively occupy the mind, are more rapid, than 
while we are awake. But their rapidity is at all times very 
great ; so much so, that, in a few moments, crowds of ideas 
pass through the mind, which it would take a long time to 
utter, and a far longer time would it take to perform all 
the transactions, which they concern. This explanation, 
therefore, is not satisfactory, for our thoughts are oftentimes 
equally rapid in our waking moments. 

The true reason, we apprehend, is to be found in those 
preceding sections, which took under examination the 
apparent reality of dreams. Our conceptions in dreaming 
are considered by us real ; every thought is an action ; 
every idea is an event ; and successive states of mind are 
successive actions and successive events. He, who in his 
sleep has the conception of all the particulars of a mil- 
itary expedition to Moscow, or of a circumnavigation of 
the globe, seems to himself to have actually experienced 
all the various and multiplied fortunes of the one and the 
other. Hence what appears to be the real time in dreams, 
but is only the apparent time, will be, not that, which is 



260 



OF BREAMING. 



sufficient ibr the mere thought, but that, which is necessary 
for the successive actions. 

" Something perfectly analogous to this may be re- 
marked (says Mr. Stewart) in the perceptions we obtain 
by the sense of sight. When I look into a shew-box, 
where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry 
daubings of a few inches in diameter ; but if the repre- 
sentation be executed with so much skill, as to convey to 
me the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me 
swells in its dimensions, in proportion to the extent of 
space, which I conceive it to occupy, and what seemed 
before to be shut within the limits of a small wooden frame, 
is magnified, in my apprehension, to an immense landscape 
of woods, rivers, and mountains. 5 ' 

§. 217. Of the senses sinking to sleep in succession. 

It has been remarked, that in sleep the mind ceases to 
retain its customary power over the muscular movements 
of the system; and all the senses also are at such times 
locked up, and no longer perform their usual offices. The 
effect upon the senses is such, that it seems to be proper 
to speak of them as individually going to sleep and awak- 
ing from sleep. — It remains, therefore, to be observed, 
that there is some considerable reason to suppose, that the 
senses fall asleep in succession. For a detailed explana- 
tion and proof of this singular fact, reference must be had 
to Cullen, and particularly to Cabanis, a French writer on 
subjects of this nature ; but the conclusions, at which they 
arrive on this particular point, may be here stated. 

The sight, in consequence of the protection of the eye- 
lids, ceases to receive impressions first, while all the other 
senses preserve their sensibility entire ; and may, therefore, 
be said to be first in falling asleep. The sense of taste, 
according to the above writers, is the next, which loses its 
susceptibility of impressions, and then the sense of smell- 
ing. The hearing is the next in order, and last of all 
comes the sense of touch. 

Furthermore, the senses are thought to sleep with dif- 



OF DREAMING. 



261 



ferent degrees of profoundness. The senses of taste and 
smelling awake the last ; the sight with more difficulty 
than the hearing, and the touch the easiest of all. Some- 
times a very considerable noise does not awake a person, 
but if the soles of his feet are tickled in the slightest de- 
gree, he starts up immediately. 

Similar remarks are made, by the writers above refer- 
red to, on the muscles. Those, which move the arms and 
legs, cease to act, when sle»ep is approaching, sooner than 
those, which sustain the head ; and the latter before those, 
which support the back. — We may notice here an excep- 
tion to the general statement at the commencement of this 
section, that the mind in sleep ceases to retain its power 
over the muscles. Some persons can sleep standing, or 
walking, or riding on horseback ; with such we cannot well 
avoid the supposition, that the voluntary power over the 
muscles is in some way retained and exercised in sleep. — 
These statements are particularly important in connection 
with the facts of somnambulism ; only admit, that the sus- 
ceptibility of the senses, and the power of the muscles may 
remain even in part while we are asleep, and we can ac- 
count for them. We know, that this is not the case in a 
vast majority of instances, but that it does sometimes hap- 
pen, is a point, which seems at last to be sufficiently well 
established. 

§. 218. Remarks on Somnambulists. 

Somnambulists are persons, who are capable of walking 
and other voluntary actions while asleep. — Some of the 
facts in respect to them are these. — The senses are in 
general closed, and not susceptible of being affected by 
outward objects, much the same as in ordinary sleep ; with 
some slight exceptions, however, hereafter to be mentioned. 
Hence, the somnambulist walks, and performs other volun- 
tary actions without the use of vision ; and yet in some 
cases he has his eyes open, but is still unable to see. Do- 
ing the works of day at unseasonable hours, he piles up his 
wood at midnight, or yokes his oxen, or goes to mill, and 



262 OY DREAMING. 

all the while is as profoundly asleep as any of his neigh- 
bours ; until he falls over some obstacle at his feet, or 
rides against a tree, or is in some other way brought to his 
recollection. He is not certain of walking in safe places, 
but may sometimes be found on the roof of houses or on 
the edge of precipices, but evidently with an utter insensi- 
bility to terrour. He is a sort of automatick machine, 
that is carried about from place to place, but without feel- 
ing, vision, hearing, or other exercises of the senses ; and 
still more without calculation, or any thing, which may 
be truly called reason ; always excepting such calculation 
and reasoning as may be found in dreams. 

NOTE. — The following is an instance of somnambulism, which recently took 
place, of an extraordinary character. — A farmer in one of the counties of Mas- 
sachusetts had employed himself, for some weeks in winter, thrashing his 
grain. One night as he was about closing his labours, he ascended a ladder to 
the top of the great beams in the barn, where the rye, which he was thrashing, 
was deposited, to ascertain what number of bundles remained unthrashed, which 
he determined to finish the next day. The ensuing night, about two o'clock, as 
was supposed, he was heard by his mother to get up and go out, who had nu 
further recollection of him during the night. — He repaired to his barn, being in 
sound sleep, and altogether unconscious of what he was doing, set open his 
barn doors, ascended the ladder as he had done the day before, went on to the 
hay-mow, thence on to the great beams of the barn where the said rye was 
deposited, and threw, down a flooring, and again descended and commenced 
thrashing it. When he had completed it, he raked off the straw, and bound it 
into bundle*, and shoved the rye to one side of the floor, and then carried the 
straw up the ladder and deposited it on some rails, that lay across the great 
beams. He then threw down another flooring of rye, which he thrashed and 
finished as before. Thus he continued his labours until he had thrashed five 
floorings, and on returning from throwing down the sixth and last, in passing 
over part of the hay-mow, he fell off, where the hay had been cut down about six 
feet, on to the lower part of it, which awoke him. He at first imagined himself 
in his neighbour's barn, but after groping about in the dark for a long time, as- 
certained that he was in his own, and at length found the ladder, on which 
he descended to the floor, — closed his barn doors, which he found open ; and return- 
ed to his house. — On coming to the light, he found himself in such a profuse perspi- 
ration, that his clothes were literally wet through,— he went to bed, and the next 
morning on going to his barn, found that he had ihrashed, during the night, five 
bushels of rye, — had raked the straw off in good order, and deposited it on the 
great beams, and shoved the grain to one side of the floor, all in a workmanlike 
manner, without the least consciousness of what he was doing, until he fell 
from the bay. 



OF DREAMING. 263 

Of such persons many instances are on record, and of 
some a particular account is given ; — the accompanying in- 
stance in the note will help to illustrate the above asser- 
tions, which, as a general statement, are sufficiently near 

the truth. The explanation which seems on the whole 

the most satisfactory, is this ; viz. (1) The somnambulist 
is in all cases dreaming, and we may suppose in general, 
that the dream is one, which greatly interests him. — (2) 
Those volitions, which are a part of his dreams, retain their 
power over the muscles, which is not the fact with oth- 
er people. Consequently, whatever the somnambulist 

dreams is not only real in the mind, as in all other dream- 
ers, but his ability to exercise his muscles enables him to 
give it a reality in action. Whether he dream of writing 
a letter, or of visiting a neighbour's house, or even of thrash- 
ing out his wheat, his muscles are faithful to his vivid 
mental conceptions, which we may suppose in all cases 
closely connected with his customary labours and experi- 
ences, and carry him pretty safely through the operation, 
however sightless may be his eye, or dull his other senses. 
Further — We are not to forget here a remark on the 
sleep of the senses, already alluded to, and which is an 
exception to the general statement in regard to them. 
Both in somnambulism and in ordinary cases of dream- 
ing the senses are not always entirely locked up ; many 
observations clearly show, that it is possible for the 
mind to be accessible through them, and that a new direc- 
tion may be given in this way to a person's dreams without 
awaking him. Hence somnambulists may sometimes 
have very slight visual perceptions ; they may in some 
slight measure be guided by sensations of touch ; all the 
senses may be affected in a small degree by their appro- 
priate objects, or this may be the case with some and not 
with others, without effectually disturbing their sleep. — 
These facts will be found to help in explaining any circum- 
stances, which may be thought not to come within the 
reach of the general explanation above given. 



264 OF DREAMING. 

§. 219. Of the utility of dreams. 

It is a common opinion, that nature does nothing iri 
vain. Without doubting the general truth of this senti- 
ment, some have, nevertheless, found it difficult to discov- 
er any practical utility in dreams. But, on the con- 
trary, others have not been so sceptical. Dr. Beattie 

assures us, that dreaming is not without its uses, though 
we should never be able to discover them ; and one would 
think from some remarks of Franklin, that he was pretty 

much of the same opinion. The former writer imagines 

among other benefits, that they sometimes convey moral 
instruction, and refers in support of his opinion to a fine 
moral tale in the Toiler, given in the form of a dream. He 
further thinks, that they may sometimes convey intimations 
of good or evil results in the conduct of life, which are 
not to be altogether disregarded. Condorcet and others 
have from their own experience mentioned their aid in the 
solution of difficult problems ; and the poetical writers 
have so frequently beheld 

"Most beauteous beings in their hours of sleep," 

that one is almost 'persuaded to believe, that we should 
have had less bright poetick creations, if they had not 
been real dreamers. 

But however this may be, whether they be useful or 
not, they are in general harmless, and sometimes amusing ; 
and perhaps we ought not to be too confident of their inu- 
tility, until we know more about them. As to any evil ef- 
fects resulting from dreaming, only be temperate in food, 
abundant in exercise, and follow Franklin's advice in the 
article of a good conscience, and almost any one 'would be 
willing to insure against them. 



265 
CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 



aftBXKOtfSTRATX'VS REASONING. 



§. 220. Of truth and different kinds of it. 

There is no small difficulty in giving a definition of 
truth, which will be satisfactory to all. The following i* 
perhaps as unexceptionable as any ; — Truth is the con- 
formity of our thoughts or mental states to things, as they 
actually exist. — Agreeably to this definition, we may say 
of any propositions whatever, whether expressed in words 
or merely mental, that they are true, whenever they repre- 
sent things, as they are. And, consequently, all are neces- 
sarily either true or false, being either conformed or not 

conformed to the nature and state of things. Truth 

does not depend upon belief. The proposition, that red- 
ness is a quality inherent in a soldier's coat, is, no doubt, 
firmly believed by many, but is not true in the sense, in 
which it is generally understood to be so. We have al- 
ready seen, that this and other colours are sensations in 
the mind. The belief, which people have in regard to it, 

does not affect the truth of the proposition itself. 

Truth has by some writers been divided into two kinds, 
viz. necessary and contingent. — Necessary truths are such as 
always exist the same, and can neither be caused, nor an- 
nulled by the will of any being whatever. The proposi- 
tion, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 

right ones, expresses a truth of this kind. Contingent 

truths have relation to those things, which are not neces- 
sarily permanent. The proposition, that the world exists, 
expresses a truth of this description. 

§. 221. Of the tvays in which truth is discovered. 

Truth seems to be but another name for knowledge ; 
and among the means, which a beneficent Providence has 
34 



266 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 

put into our hands for the acquisition of it, the three fol- 
lowing are the most considerable, viz. the senses, intu- 
ition, and reasoning. ,. 

All our knowledge commences with the senses, as the 
ideas from this source are prior to any others ; without 
them we do not readily perceive, how our minds could ever 
have been called into action. If the senses be one of the 
appointed means of conveying to us truth or knowledge, 
then we must suppose, that they give us ideas of things, as 
they actually exist. Nothing can be more evident, than 
that they give us such ideas of things, as our Maker inten- 
ded they should ; and if in any case we can trace the foun- 
dation of «ur knowledge to the intention or will of Him, 
who gave us the capacity of knowledge, we ought to be 
satisfied. — By means of the senses we first become ac- 
quainted with external objects, with their form, and some 
of their various qualities, and properties ; so that we orig- 
inally owe to them those notions, which we have of all the 
multiplied and wonderful works of creation. 

It may perhaps be objected, that we derive erroneous 
notions of things from the senses in the case of colours, 
and in some other instances ; and that, therefore, the sen- 
ses cannot be safely regarded, as a foundation or source 
of knowledge. In reply we observe, that our misapprehen- 
sions of colours are not so much owing to the senses, as 
to the principles of association ; and it is altogether clear, 
that our Maker has given us the power, whenever our men- 
tal susceptibilities are fully and happily developed, of cor- 
recting all such misapprehensions of whatever origin. 

See the chapters on primary truths, and on casual con- 
nections of thought. 

§. 222. Of truth or knowledge from intuition. 

We have knowledge also or new discoveries of truth 
from intuition. This is the name given to the state or 
operation of the mind, when there is an immediate percep- 
tion of the agreement or disagreement of two or more 
ideas, without the intervention of any third idea. For in- 



DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 267 

stance,-"three and three are six,"-"things equal to the same 
are equal to one another,-"the whole is greater than a part." 
In these propositions and others like them, it is at once 
perceived by the mind, that there is an agreement of ideas, 
or that what is expressed in the predicate is compatible 
with what is expressed in the subject of the proposition. 
On such propositions no deductions of reasoning can con- 
fer any additional evidence. 

Intuition is nothing more than one of the exercises of that 
susceptibility, which, we have already seen, the mind posses- 
ses of feeling the relation among different objects. We 
refer here to §. 199, in the chapter on abstract ideas. 
Hence we notice the mind to be in that state, to which we 
give the name of intuition, in the perception of the identi- 
ty and diversity of objects, also of their resemblance or co- 
existence, and in the perception of the relations of quanti- 
ty and number, and of cause and effect. 

We increase our knowledge or have new discoveries of 

truth, in the third place, by reasoning. Reasontng is that 

mental process, by which unknown truths are inferred from 
those, which are already known or admitted. — It is divided 
into two kinds, viz. demonstrative reasoning, and moral 
reasoning. In this chapter we confine ourselves to de- 
monstrative reasoning. 

§.823. Definition of propositions and kinds of ihem. 

But before we can enter with advantage on the subject 
of reasoning, it is necessary to go into a brief explanation 
of propositions, which are the subordinate parts in every 

process of that kind. A proposition has been defined 

to be a verbal representation of some perception, act, or 
affection of the mind. — Mr. Locke also speaks of mental 
propositions, or those states of mind, where two or more 
ideas are compared together, previous to their being em- 
bodied and set forth in language. # 

The parts of a proposition are, — (1) The subject, or 
that, concerning which something is either a-serted, or de- 
nied, commanded, or inquired : — (2) The predicate, or 



368 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 

that, which is asserted, denied, commanded, or inquired 
concerning the subject ; — (3) The copula, by which the 

two other parts are connected. In these two propositions, 

Caesar was brave, 
Men are fallible, 
Men and Ccesar are the subjects ; fallible and brave are 
the predicates ; are and was are the copulas. 

Propositions have been divided, — (1) Into simple or 
those, whose subject and predicate are composed of single 
words, as in this 

Benevolence is commendable ; — 

(2) Into complex, or those, where the subject and pre- 
dicate consist of a number of words, as in this, 

Faithfulness in religion is followed by peace of mind ;— 

(3) Into modal, where the copula is qualified by some 
word or words, representing the manner or possibility of 
the agreement or discrepancy between the subject and 
predicate, as in these, 

Men of learning can exert influence ; 

Wars may sometimes be just. 

Propositions, more or less involved, are necessary parts 
in every process of reasoning. They may be compared to 
the separate and disjointed blocks of marble, which are 
destined to enter into the formation of some edifice. The 
completed process of reasoning is the edifice ; the proposi- 
tions are the materials. 

§. 224. Use of definitions and axioms in demonstrative 
reasoning. 

Demonstrative reasonings are chiefly found in mathe- 
maticks ; and the first principles of them are definitions. 
We can never have a demonstration of the properties of a 
circle, parabola, ellipse, or other mathematical figure, 

without first having given a definition of them. The 

first principles of any science are those propositions, 
whether fac\s or merely assumed, from which the remoter 
truths of that science are derived. Thus in Natural Phi- 
losophy the general facts in relation to the gravity and 
.elasticity of the air may, agreeably to this explanation, be 



DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 269 

considered as first principles. From these principles in 
Phvsicks are deduced, as consequences, the suspension of 
the mercury in the barometer, and its fall, when carried 
up to an eminence. And agreeably to the same explan- 
ation, definitions, which may be considered in the light of 
facts assumed, are the foundation of demonstrative reason- 
ings, or are those propositions, from which by means of 
the subsequent steps the conclusion is derived. 

We must not forget here the use of axioms in the dem- 
onstrations of mathematicks ; — these are certain self-evi- 
dent propositions, or propositions, the truth of which is dis- 
covered by intuition, such as the following ; — " Things 

equal to the same are equal to one another." " From 

equals take away equals, and equals remain." We gen- 
erally find a number of them prefixed to treatises of geom- 
etry ; and it has been a mistaken supposition, which has 
long prevailed,' that they are at the foundation of geomet- 
rical, and of all demonstrative reasoning. But axioms, ta- 
ken by themselves, lead to no conclusions. With their 
assistance alone, it cannot be denied, that the truth, invol- 
ved in propositions susceptible of demonstration, would 
have been beyond our reach. 

But axioms are by no means without their use, although 
their nature may have been misunderstood. They are 
properly and originally intuitive perceptions of the truth, 
and whether they be expressed in words, as we generally 
find them, or not, is of but little consequence, except as a 
matter of convenience to beginners, and in giving instruc- 
tion. But those intuitive perceptions, which are always 
implied in them, are essential helps ; and if by their aid a- 
lone we should be unable to complete a demonstration, 
we should be equally unable without them. We be- 
gin with definitions ; we compare together successively a 
number of propositions ; and these intuitive perceptions of 
their agreement or disagreement, to which, when express- 
ed in words, we give the name of axioms, attend us at 
every step. 



270 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 

§. 225. Of the subjects of demonstrative reasoning. 

Demonstrative reasoning differs from any other species 
of reasoning in the subjects, about which it is employed. 
Those subjects are abstract ideas and the necessary rela- 
tions among them. And there may be reckoned, as com- 
ing within this class of subjects, the properties of numbers 
and of geometrical figures ; also extension, duration, 
weight, velocity, forces, &c, so far as they are suscep- 
tible of being accurately expressed by numbers. But 
the subjects of moral reasoning, upon which we are to re- 
mark hereafter more particularly, are matters of fact, in- 
cluding their connection with other facts, whether con- 
stant or variable, and all attendant circumstances. — — 
That the exterior angle of a triangle is equal to both 
the interior and opposite angles, is a truth, which comes 
within the province of demonstration. That water freezes 
at a temperature of thirty two degrees, that Xerxes invaded 
Greece, &c. are inquiries, belonging to moral reasoning, 

§. 226. The opposites of demonstrative reasonings 
absurd. 

In demonstrations we consider only one side of a ques- 
tion ; it is not ne'cessary to do any thing more than this. 
The first principles in the reasoning are given ; they are 
not only supposed to be certain, but are taken for granted, 
as such ; these are followed by a number of propositions in 
succession, all of which are compared together ; if the 
conclusion be a demonstrative one, then there has been a 
clear perception of certainty at every step in the train. 
Whatever may be urged against an argument thus conduct- 
ed is of no consequence ; the opposite of it will always im- 
ply some fallacy. — Thus, the proposition, that the three 
angles of a triangle are not equal to two right angles, and 
other propositions, which are the opposite of what has been, 
demonstrated, will always be found to be false, and also 
to involve an absurdity ; that is, are inconsistent with, and 
contradictory to themselves. — Nothing more can be wanted 



DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 271 

to confirm this, than a careful examination of such propo- 
sitions. 

6. 227. Demonstrative reasonings do not admit of dif- 
ferent degrees of belief 

W hen our thoughts are employed upon subjects, which 
come within the province of moral reasoning, we yield dif- 
ferent degrees of assent ; we form opinions more or less 
probable. It is different in demonstrations ; the assent, 
which we yield, is at all times of the highest kind, and is 

never susceptible of being regarded, as more or less. In 

short, all demonstrations are certain. But a question arises, 
What is certainty ? And what in particular do we under- 
stand by that certainty, which is ascribed to the conclu- 
sions, to which we are conducted in any process of demon- 



§. 228. Of the nature of demonstrative certainty. 

In proceeding to answer the above inquiry, it is to be 
observed, that, in demonstrative reasonings, we always be- 
gin with certain first principles or truths, either known, or 
taken for granted ; and these hold the first place, or are 
the foundation of that series of propositions, over which 
the mind successively passes, until it rests in the conclu- 
sion. In mathematicks the first principles, of which we 
here speak, are the definitions. — We begin, therefore, with 
what is acknowledged by all to be true or certain. At eve- 
ry step there is an intuitive perception of the agreement or 
disagreement of the propositions, which are compared to- 
gether. Consequently, however far we may advance in the 
comparison of them, there is no possibility of falling short 
of that degree of assent, with which, it is acknowledged, 
that the series commenced. So that demonstrative certain- 
ty may be judged to amount to this ; Whenever we ar- 
rive at the the last step or the conclusion of a series of 
propositions, the mind intuitively perceives the relation 
existing, whether it be the agreement or disagreement, co- 
i ncidence or want of coincidence, between that last step 



272 DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING. 

or the conclusion, and the conditions involved in the pro- 
positions at the commencement of the series ; — and there- 
fore, demonstrative certainty is in effect the same as the 
certainty of intuition. 

§. 229. Of the use of diagrams in demonstrations. 

Mr. Locke has advanced the opinion, that moral sub- 
jects are no less susceptible of demonstration, than math- 
ematical. However this may be, we are certainly more 
frequently required to practice this species of reasoning in 
the mathematicks, than any where else ; and in conduct- 
ing the process, nothing is more common, than to make use 

of various kinds of figures or diagrams. The proper use 

of diagrams, of a square, circle, triangle, or other figure, 
which we delineate before us, is to assist the mind in keep- 
ing its ideas distinct, and to help in comparing them together 
with readiness and correctness. They are a sort of auxili- 
aries, brought in to the help of our intellectual infirmities, 
but are not absolutely necessary ; since demonstrative rea- 
soning, wherever it may be found, resembles any other 
kind of reasoning in this most important respect, viz. in be- 
ing a comparison of our ideas. In proof that artificial 

diagrams are only auxiliaries, and not essentially necessa- 
ry in demonstrations, it may be remarked, that they are 
necessarily all of them imperfect, owing to the imperfec- 
tion of our senses. Our reasonings, therefore, and our 
conclusions will not apply to the figures before us, but 
merely to an imagined perfect figure. And a verbal state- 
ment of the properties of this imagined perfect figure is 
what we understand by a definition, the use of which in 
this kind of reasoning in particular has already been men- 
tioned. 

§. 230. Influence of demonstrative reasoning on the 
mental character. 

A considerable skill in demonstrative reasoning is on a 
number of accounts desirable, although it cannot be de- 
nied, that very frequent practice and great readiness in it 



DEMONSTRATIVE REASONING, 273 

is not always favourable ; so that it seems proper briefly to 
mention the effects, both propitious and unpropitious, on 

the mental character. (1) A frequency of practice in 

demonstrative reasoning greatly aids in giving one a ready 
command of his attention. — In this species of reasoning, 
the propositions follow each other in such regular order 
and so closely, and so great is the importance of perceiv- 
ing the agreement or disagreement of each succeeding 
one with that, which goes before ; that a careless, unfixed, 
and dissipated state of the mind seems to be utterly incon- 
sistent with carrying on such a process with any sort of suc- 
cess to the conclusion. As, therefore, the strictest atten- 
tion is here so highly necessary, the more a person subjects 
himself to this discipline, the more ready and efficient will 
be the particular application of the mind, to which we 
give that name. — And we often find distinguished individ- 
uals in political life and in the practice of the law, who are 
desirous of holding their mental powers in the most prompt 
and systematick obedience, imposing on themselves exer- 
cises in geometry and algebra for this purpose. 

(2) This mode of reasoning accustoms one to care 

and discrimination in the examination of subjects. In all 

discussions, where .the object is to find out the truth, it is 
necessary to take asunder all the parts, having relation to 
the general subject, and bestow upon them a share of our 
consideration. And in general we find no people more 
disposed to do this than mathematicians ; they are not 
fond of reasoning, as Mr. Locke expresses it, in the lump, 
but are for going into particulars, for allowing every thing 
its due weight and nothing more, and for resolutely throw- 
ing out of the estimate all propositions, which are not di- 
rectly and truly to the point. — It must further be said, as a 
general remark closely connected with what has just been 
observed, that those departments of science, which require 
demonstrative reasoning, are promotive of a characteristick 
of great value, — a love of the truth. 

(3) Demonstrative reasoning gives to the mind a great- 
er grasp or comprehension. This result it is true, will not 
be experienced in the case of those, who have merely ex- 

35 



374 fcEHONSTBATIVE REASONING. 

ercised themselves in the study of a few select demonstra- 
tions ; it implies a familiarity of the mind with long and 
complicated trains of deductions. A thorough mathema- 
tician, who has made it a business to exercise himself in 
this method of reasoning, can hardly have been otherwise 
than sensible of that intellectual comprehension, or length 
and breadth of survey, which we have in view ; since one 
demonstration is often connected with another, much in 
the same way as the subordinate parts of separate demon- 
strations are connected with each other ; and he, there- 
fore, finds it necessary, if he v/ould go on with satisfaction 
and pleasure, to gather up and retain, in the grasp of his 
mind, all the general and subordinate propositions of a 
long treatise. 

But, on the other hand, there are some results of a very 
great attention to sciences, which require the exclusive appli- 
cation of demonstrative reasoning, of a less favourable kind. 

(1) It has been thought, that it has a tendency to ren- 
der the mind mechanical ; — That is, while it increases its 
ability of acting in a given way, it diminishes the power of 
invention, and prevents its striking out into a new path, 
different from that, which it has been in the habit of going 
over. (2) It nourishes a spirit of .scepticism ; or per- 
haps we may say, diminishes the power of belief. The ex- 
clusive mathematician has been accustomed to yield his 
assent to demonstration only ; and it is but natural, that he 
should find some difficulty in being satisfied with any lower 
degree of evidence. This disposition to doubt will be, in 
some measure, experienced, even in the transition from 
pure to mixed mathematicks, at least there will be an ab- 
sence of that full and delightful satisfaction, which had 
hitherto been enjoyed. Still more will it be felt, when he 
is called upon to judge of events, and duties, and actions 
of common life, which do not admit of the application of 
demonstration. In a word, it has been supposed to un- 
fit the mind in a considerable degree for accurate discrim- 
inations as to moral evidence on all subjects whatever, where 
that species of evidence is alone admissible ; and also for 
fair and correct judgments in matters of taste. 



MORAL REASONING. 275 

Such, on the whole, being the results of an exclusive 
attention to sciences, which admit of demonstrations alone, 
a restricted pursuit of them is all, that can be safely re- 
commended. Those, who aim at a perfect education, will 
not "canton out to themselves a little Goshen in the intel- 
lectual world," which is to receive all their labours, and 
leave the rest of the vast field of the mind to neglect. 
Mathematicians should make themselves acquainted with 
the principles of moral evidence, otherwise they fail in the 
conduct of life ;— and it is not too much to say, that even 
literature, which is an elegant as well as lofty pursuit, is 
by no means incompatible with a suitable degree of devo- 
tedness to their chosen sciences. 

The ablest mathematicians have in some instances 
been accomplished literary scholars. Among many others, 
Blaise Pascal can hardly fail to be remembered. He was 
capable of offering the most valuable contributions to 
the abstract sciences ; and in his Provincial Letters and 
other writings of a less abstract character, has bequeathed 
to France and to the world the most honourable monu- 
ments of sensibility, of taste, and eloquence. 



CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 



IVEORAL REASONING. 



^. 231. Of the subjects and importance of moral 
reasoning. 

Moral reasoning, Which is the second great division 
or kind of reasoning, concerns opinions, actions, events 
&c; embracing in general those subjects, which <lo not 
come within the province of demonstrative reasoning. The 
subjects, to which it relates, are often briefly expressed by 
saying, that they are matters of fact', nor would this defini- 
tion, concise as it is, be likely to give an erroneous idea of 
them. Skill in this kind of reasoning is of great use in 



276 MORAL REASONING. 

the formation of opinions concerning the duties, and the 
general conduct of life. Some may be apt to think, that 
those, who have been most practised in demonstrative rea- 
soning, can find no difficulty in adapting their intellectual 
habits to matters of mere probability. This opinion is not 
altogether well founded, as we have seen in the preceding 
chapter. Although that species of reasoning has a favour- 
able result in giving persons a command over the atten- 
tion, and in some other respects, whenever exclusively 
employed it has the effect in some degree to disqualify 
them for a correct judgment on those various subjects, 

which properly belong to moral reasoning. This last, 

therefore, which has its distinctive name from the primary 
signification of the Latin mores, viz. manners, customs, &c, 
requires a separate consideration. 

§. 232. Of the nature of moral certainty. 

Moral reasoning causes in us different degrees of as- 
sent, and in this respect differs from demonstrative. In 
demonstration there is an intuitive perception of the rela- 
tion of the propositions compared together; and a know- 
ledge or absolute certainty of their agreement or disagree- 
ment.— -In moral reasoning this agreement or disagree- 
ment is only presumed, but this presumption may be more 
or less, admitting a great variety of degrees. While, 
therefore, one mode of reasoning is attended with know- 
ledge ; the other can properly be said to produce only 

judgment or opinion. But the probability of such 

judgment or opinion may arise so high, as to exclude all 
reasonable doubt. And hence we often speak, as if we 
possessed certainty in respect to subjects, which admit 
merely of the application of moral reasoning. Although 
there is undoubtedly some difference between the belief 
attendant on demonstration, and that produced by the 
highest probability, the effect on our feelings is very nearly 
the same. A man, who should doubt the existence of the 
cities of London and Pekin, although he has no other evi- 
dence of it than that of testimony, would be considered 
hardly less singular and unreasonable, than one, who might 



MORAL REASONING. 277 

take it into his head to doubt of the truth of the proposi- 
tions of Euclid. — It is this very high degree of probability, 
which we term moral certainty. 

§. 233. Of reasoning from analogy. 

Moral reasoning admits of some subordinate divisions ; 
and of these, the first to be mentioned, is reasoning from 
analogy. — The word, analogy, is used with some vagueness, 
but in general denotes a resemblance, either greater or 
less. — Having observed a consistency and uniformity in 
the operations of the physical world, we are naturally led 
to presume, that things of the same nature will be affected 
in the same way, and will produce the same effects ; and 
also that the same or similar effects are to be attributed to 
like causes. — Analogical reasoning, therefore, is that 
mental process, by which unknown truths or conclusions 
are inferred from the resemblances of things. 

The argument, by which Sir Isaac Newton establishes 
the truth of universal gravitation, is of this sort. He proves, 
that the planets in their revolutions are deflected towards 
the sun in a manner precisely similar to the deflection of 
the earth towards the same luminary ; and also that there 
is a similar deflection of the moon towards the earth, and 
of a body projected obliquely at the earth's surface towards 
the earth's centre. Hence he infers by analogy, that all 
these deflections originate from the same cause, or are 
governed by one and the same law, viz. the power of 
gravitation. 

This method of reasoning is applicable to the inquiry, 
Whether the planets are inhabited? — and furnishes the 
sole ground for the indulgence of such a supposition. We 
observe a resemblance in certain respects between Mars, 
Jupiter, Saturn, and other planets, and the earth. They 
all revolve around the sun, as the earth does, and all de- 
rive light from that source. Several of them are ascertain- 
ed to revolve on their axis, and, consequently, must have a 
succession of day and night. Some of them have moons, 
and all are subject to the law of gravitation. From these 



*7a MORAL REASONING. 

various similitudes we draw the conclusion by analogy, 
that those planets must be inhabited, like the earth. 

There are a variety of subjects, both speculative and 
practical, in respect to which we may reason in this way ; 
and sometimes with considerable satisfaction. And among 
others, this method of reasoning finds a place in the argu- 
ments of persons in the practice of the law. An attorney, 
for instance, advocates a case, which does not fall within 
the provisions of existing statutes, and for which he finds 
in his authorities no exact precedent. He is, therefore, 
under the necessity of ascertaining, as far as possible, the 
analogy or resemblance between this case, and others, 
which are given, and have been decided upon. And he 
has here a favourable opportunity for the exhibition of his 

research and discrimination. A considerable part of 

the argumentation among pleaders at the bar Is employed 
in urging various analogies of this sort. It is the business 
of the court in such instances to adjust, and compare them 
together, and allow them their due weight. In doing this, 
their discernment and integrity are called into exercise ; 
for sometimes a small circumstance, and perhaps one, 
which the pleader has laboured to involve in obscurity 5 
will disclose an essential distinction between the case in 
hand, and that on the file of precedents, to which it has 
been likened. 

§. 234. Caution to be used in reasoning from analogy. 

The last remark leads us to observe, that much care is 
necessary in arguments drawn from this source, especially 
in scientifick investigations ; and they are in all cases to 
be received with some degree of distrust. The ancient 
anatomists are an instance of precipitate reasoning from 
analogy. Being hindered by certain superstitions from 
dissecting the bodies of men, they endeavoured to obtain 
the information they wanted, by the dissection of those 
animals, whose internal structure was supposed to come 
nearest to that of the human body. In this way they 
were led into a variety of mistakes, which have been de- 
tected by later anatomists. Tt does not follow, because 



MORAL REASONING. 279 

things resemble each other in a number of particulars, that 
this resemblance will be found in all others ; and we are, 
therefore, always to consider ourselves in danger of push- 
ing the supposition of similitude too far. 

The proper use of analogical reasoning seems to be, 
in all scientifick inquiries, to illustrate and confirm truths, 
which are susceptible of proof from other sources of evi- 
dence. A happy instance of this use of it is the work of 
Bishop Butler, entitled, "The Analogy of Religion, natural 

and revealed, to the constitution and course of nature" It 

is not the object of the writer to prove the truth of reli- 
gion, either natural or revealed, but to answer some ob- 
jections, which may be brought against its principles. And 
this he does by proving, that the same objections exist to 
the providence of God in the natural world. There is an 
analogy or resemblance in the two ; and if the objections, 
which are brought, will reject him from the authorship of 
what we term religion, they will dethrone him also from 
all direction in the ordinary economy of nature. 

§. 235. Of reasoning by induction, 

Vi e come now to another method of moral reasoning, 
viz. by induction. — Inductive reasoning is the inferring of 
general truths from particular facts, that have fallen under 
our observation. — Our experience teaches us, that nature - 
is governed by uniform laws ; and we have a firm expec- 
tation, (whether it be an original principle of our constitu- 
tion or whatever may be the origin of it ? ) that events will 
happen in future, as we have seen them to happen in times 
past. With this state of mind we are prepared to de- 
duce inferences by induction. 

When a property has been found in a number of sub- 
jects of the same kind, and nothing of a contradictory na- 
ture appears, we have the strongest expectation of finding 
the same property in all the individuals of the same class ; 
in other words, we come to the conclusion, that the pro 
perty is a general one. Accordingly, we apply a magnet 
to several pieces of iron ; we find in every instance a strong 



'280 Moral reasoning, 

attraction taking place ; and we conclude, although we 
have made the experiment with only a small number of 
the masses of iron actually in existence, that it is a proper- 
ty of iron to be thus affected by that substance, or that all 
iron is susceptible of magnetical attraction. This is a 

conclusion drawn by induction. Although the belief 

attending it is not precisely of the same nature with the 
belief accompanying demonstration, it is moral probaba- 
bility of the highest kind, or what is sometimes termed 
moral certainty ; and is at least found to be sufficient for 
all practical purposes. We obtain all the general truths, 
relating to the properties and laws of material objects, in 
this way. 

And we thus not only acquire a knowledge of the gen- 
eral nature of material objects, but apply the same induc- 
tive process also in the investigation of laws, which gov- 
ern the operations of the mind. It is by experience or 
observing what takes place in a number of individuals, that 
we are able to infer the general law of association, viz. 
When two or more ideas have existed in the mind in im- 
mediate succession, they are afterwards found to be mu- 
tually suggested by each other. It is the same in ascertain- 
ing other general laws. 

The method of induction, which is recommended by 
Lord Bacon, as one of the most important aids in the search 
after truth, is employed not only in ascertaining the gener- 
al facts both of physical and intellectual nature, but is 
employed also in the formation of such practical rules and 
maxims, as are of use in the common concerns of life. 

§. 236. Of the caution necessary in inductive processes. 

Reasoning in this method requires the exercise of cau- 
tion, no less than by analogy. It is especially liable 
to prove fallacious, whenever our investigations have 
been marked with impatience, and our judgments are form- 
ed on a very small number of facts. When the num- 
ber of examined instances is large, and the results are uni- 
form, the conclusion amounts to moral certainty. But 



MORAL REASONING. 281 

when the number of such instances is small, and the re- 
sults are not altogether uniform, the judgments formed 
will possess a greater or less degree of probability, varying 
with circumstances. 

§. 237. Of the evidence of testimony. 

Before entering directly on the subject of the evidence 
of testimony, we shall dwell a moment on the remark in 
a previous section, that, among the most considerable 
sources of knowledge, are the senses, intuition, and rea- 
soning. A large portion of our knowledge, which we 

considered to be the same with what is otherwise termed 
truth, is derived from the senses ; — and this is what is 
meant in general, when it is said, that we have a knowledge 

of this or the other thing, by our personal observation. 

A second source of knowledge is intuition. Whatever per- 
ceptions we have, which are intuitive, have an equally 
strong claim to be reckoned as knowledge or truth with 

those, which can be traced to the senses. Further ; all 

reasoning, as far as it is demonstrative, is a source of know- 
ledge ; we have no more doubt of the truth of the conclu- 
sions, drawn from such reasoning, than we have of the 
separate intuitive perceptions, which preceded it. And 
also the deductions of moral reasoning may, with good 
grounds, be considered as coming within the limits of 
what men commonly dignify with the title of knowledge, 
when attended with a probability of the highest kind ; that 
is, whatever is morally certain. To other conclusions, de- 
duced by moral reasoning, we ordinarily give the name 

Of JUDGMENTS Or OPINIONS. 

But something remains to be said on the nature of the 
evidence, involved in these sources of knowledge. Of 
evidence itself it is perhaps sufficient to say, by way of de- 
fining it, that it is a circumstance, which is naturally 
fitted to affect our belief. And then with this idea of it in 
view, we say, that the evidence of the senses, which were 
mentioned as the first source of all truth, is something in • 
separable from that part of our constitution, is ultimate, 



282 MORAL REASOJflNGi, 

can be resolved into nothing more simple or certain, and 
stands in no need of explanation. Our Creator himself, 
in as much as he has made us thus, seems to have offered 
his responsibility, that they will not fail to guide us into 
certainty, so far at least as is necessary for us. The ev- 
idence of intuition is certainly not less strong, resulting 
from the constitution of the mind, as much as the other 
does from that of the body, and demonstrative certainty" 
is in effect the same as that of intuition ; that is, the ev- 
idence, on which the conclusions in demonstrations are 
founded, is not less decisive. 

But when we come to moral reasoning, we meet with 
a species of evidence of a different kind ; and yet of so 
frequent recurrence and of so great importance, as to merit 
some particular consideration. We refer to the evidence 
of testimony. 

Testimony is the report of men concerning those things, 
which have fallen under the observation of their senses. 
Testimony is admitted as evidence ; that is, it is a circum- 
stance, which is naturally calculated and fitted to influence 
our belief. — As to the fact, that we readily receive the tes- 
timony of our fellow beings as evidence, it is undeniable. 
Without such confidence in what they assert, every one's 
knowledge of events and facts would be limited to those 
only, of which he himself had been a personal witness. In 
this case, no American, who has not been a traveller, can 
believe, that there is such a city as London ; and no Eng- 
lishman can believe, that there is such a city as Rome ; 
and no person whatever has any ground for believing, that 
such men as Hannibal and Caesar have ever existed. — But 
then it is to be remembered, that there is no natural con- 
nection between words and things, between the testimony, 
which is given, and the thing concerning which it is given. 
This being the case, it has often been asked, Upon what 
principle do we give credit to human testimony ? — And the 
question certainly has a direct connection with the philos- 
ophy of the human mind, and deserves consideration. 



MORAL REASONING. 



283 



§. 238. Grounds of belief in testimony. 

Mr. Hume maintains, that our confidence in testimony 
is derived from no other principle, than our observation of 
the veracity of men, and of the usual conformity of facts 
to the reports of witnesses. In other words, he makes ex- 
perience the foundation of our confidence or belief in testi- 
mony. 

But there is a serious objection to this explanation, 
which is thought by many quite to overthrow his view of 
the subject. The objection is this, — Children, who have 
had but very little experience, give their assent to testi- 
mony, and the strength of their assent or belief will be the 
greater, the less removed they are from infancy. The 
credulity of children has almost passed into a proverb ; 
youth surrenders its belief almost as readily ; but manhood, 
which has seen more of the operation of the human pas- 
sions, becomes cautious ; and often the caution of man- 
hood degenerates in old age into a suspicion and distrust 
of the worst kind. — What then becomes of the doctrine of 
Mr. Hume, that confidence in testimony is the result of ex- 
perience ? One would think, if this be the course which 
things take, that the opposite of his statement is nearer 
the truth. 

§. 239. Confidence in testimony founded in an original 
tendency of our constitution. 

We must, therefore, adopt some other explanation ; 
and we cannot but think, there is good reason for suppos- 
ing, that confidence in testimony has its foundation in an 
original tendency of our minds. Certainly the wise Author 
of our nature intended, men should live together in society. 
Consequently, he would give to them those mental tenden- 
cies, which are suitable and necessary in such a situation ; 
such, for instance, as a disposition to speak the truth. And 
accordingly we find, that men are disposed to speak the 
truth, to convey, in their intercourse with others, their real 
sentiments. The telling of falsehoods is undoubtedly a 



284 MORAL REASONING. 

violence to our natures, and the 'greatest liars tell the 
truth an hundred times, where they utter a falsehood once. 
— But it is no harder to believe, that we naturally credit 
testimony, or have a natural tendency of that sort, than 
that we naturally speak the truth. And we imagine, there 
is as much evidence of the former, as of the latter. Indeed 
the latter tendency, or a disposition to speak truth, seems 
to require just such a counterpart in our constitution as 
the former, and without the one, the other would lose 
no small share of its fitness and worth. For surely a 
natural tendency to speak the truth would be very near 
superfluous, if there were not in our nature something cor- 
responding, which would lead us to yield, to what we hear, 

a ready and confiding assent. In answer, therefore, to 

the inquiry, What is the foundation of our belief in testi- 
mony, — we reply in short, that we are naturally led, or are 
led by the principles of our mental constitution, both to 
speak the truth, and to yield a ready assent to what we 
hear spoken, or to testimony. 

Furthermore, this original tendency to believe in testi- 
mony is weakened in most cases, as we. have great reason 
to think, the further we advance in life. At first we yield 
our assent without any hesitation ; to doubt is unnatural, 
and when we are compelled to do it, it is no small trial to 
our feelings. But no one lives long and mingles much 
with men, without being deceived many times. We learn 
by degrees the wide influence of interested motives ; and 
so far from falling in with Mr. Hume's hypothesis, we have 
greater reason for saying, that experience leads us to dis- 
trust, where nature would prompt us to believe. 

§. 240. Of the operation of the principles of association 
in reasoning. 

Before leaving the subject of reasoning, it is proper to 
remark on the influence of the principles of association on 
any process of this nature. Proposition follows proposi- 
tion with so much regularity, that we are apt to imagine, 
the whole is perfectly arbitrary. This supposition is quite 



MORAL REASONING. 285 

far from the truth. It is true, when a number of ideas are 
presented nearly at the same time, the mind puts forth a vo- 
lition, or exercises choice, in selecting one idea in prefer- 
ence to another. But the ideas, from which the choice is 
made, and without the presence of which, it could not be 
made, are not caused by volition, and, therefore, mere 
arbitrary creations ; but are suggested by the laws of asso- 
ciation. 

As an illustration we will suppose an argument on the 
justice and expediency of capital punishments in ordinary 
cases. The disputant first denies in general terms the 
right, which social combinations have assumed of capitally 
punishing offences of a slight nature. But before consid- 
ering the cases he has particularly in view, he remarks on 
the right of capital punishment for murder ; and admits, 
that the principle of self defence gives such a right. He 
then takes up the case of stealing, and contends, that we 
have no right to punish the thief with death, because no 
such right is given by the laws of nature ; for, before the 
formation of the civil compact, the institution of property 
was not known. He then considers the nature of civil soci- 
ety, and contends, that, in the formation of the social com- 
pact, no such extraordinary power, as that of putting to 
death for stealing or other crimes of similar aggravation, 
could have been implied in that compact, because it never 
was possessed by those, who formed it ; &c. 

Here is an argument made up of a number of proposi- 
tions, and carried on, as may be supposed, to very consid- 
erable length. And in this argument, as in all others, ev- 
ery proposition is, in the first instance, suggested by the 
laws of association ; it is not at all a matter of arbitrary 
volition. The disputant first states the inquiry in general 
terms ; he then considers the particular case of murder ; 
the crime of theft is next considered ; and this is examin- 
ed, first, in reference to natural law, and, afterwards, in 
reference to civil law. — And this consecution of proposi- 
tions, takes place precisely the same, as when the sight of 
a stranger in the crowd suggests the image of an old friend, 
and the friend suggests the village of his residence, and 



386 



MORAL REASONING. 



the village suggests an ancient ruin in its neighbourhood, 

and the ruin suggests heroes and battles of other days. 

It is true, that other propositions may have been suggested 
at the same time, and the disputant may have had his 
choice between them, but this was all the direct power, 
which he possessed. 

$. 241. Grounds of the selection of propositions. 

A number of propositions are presented to the mind by 
the principles of association ; the person, who carries on 
the process of reasoning, makes his selection among them. 
But it is reasonable to inquire, how it happens, that there 
is such a suitableness in propositions, as they follow each 
other ? — And this seems to be no other than to inquire into 
the circumstances, under which the choice of them is made, 
or the grounds of the selection. 

Let it be considered, then, that in all arguments there 
is some general subject, on which the evidence is made to 
bear ; there is some point in particular to be examined. 
In reference to these general outlines, we have a prevail- 
ing and permanent desire. This desire is not only a great 
help in giving quickness and strength to the laws of asso- 
ciation ; but exercises also a very considerable indirect in- 
fluence in giving an appropriate character to the thoughts, 
which are suggested by those laws. Hence the great body 
of the propositions, which are at such times brought up, 
will be found to have a greater or less reference to the gen- 
ral subject. These are all very rapidly compared by the 
mind with those outlines, in regard to which its feelings of 
desire are exercised, or with what we usually term the point 
to be proved. — Here the mind, in the exercise of that sus- 
ceptibility of feelings of relation, which we have already 
seen it to possess, immediately discovers the suitableness or 
want of suitableness, the agreement or want of agreement 
of the propositions presented to it, to the general subject. 
This perception of suitableness, which is one of those rel- 
ative feelings, of which the mind is from its very nature 



MORAL REASONING. 287 



held to be susceptible, exists as an ultimate fact in our men- 
tal constitution. All, that can profitably be said in rela- 
tion to it, is the mere statement of the fact, and of the cir- 
cumstances, under which it is found to exist. — Those prop- 
ositions, which are judged by the mind in the exercise of 
that capacity, which its Creator has given it, to be agree- 
able to the general subject or point to be proved, are per- 
mitted by it to enter in, as continuous parts of the argument. 
And in this way a series of propositions rises up, all hav- 
ing reference to one ultimate purpose, regular, appropriate, 
and in their issue laying the foundation of the different 

degrees of assent. This explanation will apply not only 

to the supposed argument in the preceding section, but to 
all instances of moral reasoning, and also to demonstrative. 

§. 242. Of the limitation of power over arguments. 

From what has been said it very naturally follows, that 
our power in argumentation is limited, and that we can no 
more by mere volition secure the existence of new and 
conclusive points in any given process of reasoning, than 
we can by mere volition give creation in the first instance 
to our thoughts. Persons of the most gifted intellect are 
held in check, and are restrained by the ultimate princi- 
ples of their mental constitution ; these are boundaries, 
which they cannot pass ; and those, who are capable of the 
greatest efforts in framing arguments, will be no less sen- 
sible of this truth, when they carefully examine the course 
of their thoughts, than others. 

Hence we are led very readily to see in some measure 
what things enter into the mental possessions and disci- 
pline of a successful reasoner. 

<J. 243. XOf requisites in a skilful reasoner. 

(1) The skilful reasoner must be well informed. 



No man can reason well on a subject, unless he has in- 
formed himself in regard to it. That many speak on sub- 
jects, which are proposed to them, without having made 



288 MORAL REASONING. 

any preparation, cannot be denied ; but there is a vast dif- 
ference between noisy, incoherent declamation, and a well 
wrought argument, made up of suitable propositions, fol- 
lowing each other with a direct and satisfactory reference 
to the conclusion. The mind passes from one point to an- 
other, connected with the argument, and in so doing is 
governed by the principles of association, as we have seen ; 
but what opportunity can there possibly be for the opera- 
tion of these principles, when the mind is called to fasten 
itself upon a subject and to decide upon that subject with- 
out any knowledge of those circumstances, which may be 
directly involved in it, or of its relations, and tendencies ? 
Let the greatest orator attempt to speak with such slight 
information on the question to be debated, and he would 
appear to hardly greater credit, than a school -boy in his 
first essays. 

(2) Much depends also on practice. In the prose- 
cution of an argument there is necessarily a mental per- 
ception of the congruity of its several parts, or of the 
agreement of the succeeding proposition with that, which 
went before. The degree of readiness in bringing togeth- 
er propositions and in putting forth such perceptions, will 
greatly depend on the degree of practice. 

The effect of frequent practice, resulting in what is 
termed a habit, is often witnessed in those, who follow aiay 
mechanick calling ; where we find, that what was once 
done with difficulty comes in time to be performed with 
great ease and readiness. The muscles of such persons 
seem to move with a kind of instinctive facility and accu- 
racy in the performance of those works, to which they have 
been for a long time addicted. 

There is a similar effect of frequent practice in the in- 
crease of quickness and facility in our mental operations ; 
and certainly as much so in those, which are implied in 
reasoning, as in any others. If a person have never been 
in the practice of going through geometrical demonstra- 
tions, he finds his mind very slowly and with difficulty ad- 
vancing from one step to another ; while, on the other 



MOHJLL REASONING 



28* 



hand, a person, who has so often practised this species of 
argumentation, as to have formed a habit, advances for- 
ward from one part of the train of reasoning to another 

with great rapidity and delight. And the result is the 

same in any process of moral reasoning. 

§« 244. Of moral reasoning as suited to our situation 
as accountable beings. 

Some remarks were made in the last section of the last 
chapter and in the first of this, tending to show the compar- 
ative value of demonstrative and moral reasoning. There 
is another point of some consequence, which has a connec- 
tion with that subject, remaining to be mentioned here. 
It is this 5— Moral reasoning, in as much as it does not 
compel our assent, but leaves the mind, in most cases, in 
some degree of doubt, is peculiarly suited to our condition 
as moral agents. 

If all the common subjects of life admitted of demon- 
stration, and all the conclusions, which we formed, were 
certain and irresistible, it would come near driving both 
vice and virtue out of the world. It would subject the vol- 
untary powers to a constraint little short of mechanical ; 
and have a direct tendency to confound characters and 
dispositions ; neither demanding a contest with passion, 
nor the exercise of candour, nor desires to learn the will 
of God, and excluding, in a great measure, religious faith 
and other principles, which are now suited to our situation, 

and training us up for the day of final account. While, 

therefore, the judgments, resulting from moral reasoning, 
will be allowed to be in general sufficient to guide us, 
wherever there is an honest and candid heart ; they evid- 
ently present no insuperable barriers to the influence of 
pride, and passion, and self-interest, and prejudice. They 
hold out ample inducements to those, who love the truth, 
and are sincere ; but those, who are not of this character, 
will no doubt pursue a different course, pervert evidence, 
and bring their conclusions to meet and fall in with their 
private views.- — And thus by their own works thev are 
37 



290 RULES OF DEBATE* 

judged. So that moral reasoning is especially suited to be- 
ings, who are accountable for their passions, accountable 
for their perversions of the truth, and for all their conduct \ 
and this is a circumstance, in no small degree, to its honour. 



CHAPTER TWENTY FIRST. 



DZAXiEOTSOSS- OR XLUXiZSS ©F DEBATES. 



§. 245. Of the need of directions iti argumentative debate* 

However frivolous may have been the art of disputa- 
tion, otherwise called in the language of the Schools 
dialecticks, during the Scholastick ages, and for many years 
since in some learned seminaries, there is no doubt a dia- 
lecticks more rational, more practical, and worthy of our 
consideration in this place. The circumstances of the 
times, which ought to have an influence in determining; 
what is necessary in a course of education, forbid our lay- 
ing aside this subject — the art of debating — as altogether 
out of place and useless. We allude in particular to the 
spirit of inquiry, which has gone abroad, to the deep ex- 
aminations, which have made their way into the founda- 
tions of political science, and to the establishment of free 
governments. But as our efforts in all intellectual exerci- 
ses are at first unstable and imperfect, and we are aided in 
them, and are kept from running into errour by means of 
rules ; so shall we find the advantage of a few directions 
in those argumentative controversies, to which we give the 
name of debates. The subject very clearly belongs to 
that part of intellectual philosophy, which relates to men- 
tal discipline. 

It will help in some measure to show the degree of im- 
portance which properly attaches itself to this subject, if 
we mention some of the occasions, on which the practice 
of debating occurs. (I) There are debates in the com- 
mon intercourse of life, in the management of ordinary af- 



RULES OF DEBATE. 29 J 

fairs, and in fireside conversations — Although rot attend- 
ed with much formality, occasional controversies at such 
times are unavoidable, and are often a source both of im- 
provement and of pleasure. (2) Disputations orForen- 

sick exercises are often appointed in academies, college?, 
and other schools of learning. The object is, not only to 
set students upon thinking, and to help them in the discov- 
ery of truth ; but still more to quicken the argumentative 
powers, and to afford them a suitable discipline. Some- 
times a certain number are appointed on the affirmative and 
others on the negative ; but in general it is b:st, where 
there is found to be a considerable share of enterprise in 
discussion, to let each one affirm or deny the question, as 
he chooses, (3) The controversies at the bar are prop- 
erly debates ; they are often managed with much skill and 
considerable warmth. But the advocate in courts of judi- 
cature labours under the disadvantage of being obliged 
always to adhere to the interests of his client, whatever 
may be his own private opinions on the subject in discus- 
sion. (4) Legislative assemblies, which in latter times 

have so rapidly multiplied, afford good opportunities for 
the efforts of the honest dialectician. He has great mo- 
tives, operating upon him, and calling him to put forth the 
noblest powers of argument. His obligations to* his con- 
stituents, the honourable feelings of his own breast, the 
happiness of thousands, to say nothing of that accountabil- 
ity, which awaits all at last, all imperiously summon him to 
examine, to advance what he believes, and to maintain 
it. — — (5) Subjects, proposed in literary and philosophical 
societies, written controversies of whatever kind, discus- 
sions in ecclesiastical councils, and on other occasions, are 
all so many opportunities of debate. So that it is a ve- 
ry important accomplishment, especially in this age of the 
world, to be able to reason well on subjects proposed, and 
with proper views and feelings. And hence the proprie- 
ty of laying down at least the few directions, which are 
to follow. 



292 RULES OF DEBATE. 

§. 246. Of debating merely for the pleasure of it* 

It is not advisable to enter into debates merely for the 
pleasure of it, because, whenever this practice is once a- 
dopted, the person will often unavoidably set himself up 
as a disputant, both to his own discredit, and the annoy- 
ance of his associates. How many persons, by inordin- 
ately indulging in this propensity, become talkative, obstin- 
ate, and assuming, to a degree intolerable ! They oppose 
almost every thing they hear, and their heads are continu- 
ally busied with finding out arguments for this purpose. 
And this tends to disturb the harmony and happiness of 
life ', and it is discountenanced also by those sentiments of 
mutual respect, which men owe to each other. 

§. 247. Of being governed by a desire of the truth. 

In all questions, which admit of discussion, and on 
which we find ourselves at variance with the opinions of 
others, we are to make truth our object. A desire of the 
truth is the first qualification in such inquiries. Neither 
acquirements, nor strength of natural talents can much avail 

us without a mind honest, and open to conviction. The 

opposite of the desire of the truth is a wish to decide the 
subject of dispute in one way rather than another. The 
foundation of such a preference of one result to another 
are in general prejudice, interest, and passion ; and these 
are the great enemies of truth. Whenever we are under 
their influence, we form a different estimation of facts and 
of other sources of evidence from what we should do un- 
der other circumstances ; and at such times they can hard- 
ly fail to lead us to false results. 

We have an illustration of the effects of a disputatious 
spirit, unconnected with any desire of the truth, among the 
Schoolmen. No persons seem to have been more skilled 
in the technical forms of argument. To dispute with 
readiness and skill was considered among them a part of 
education so valuable, that all possible pains were taken in 
securing this mental accomplishment. But the acquisition 



RULES OF DEBATE. 293 

©f truth did not form any prominent part of their plan. 
The subjects, about which they debated, were frivolous ; 
and the spirit, which animated them, utterly captious and 
disingenuous. The testimony of John of Salisbury, a 
learned man of the Scholastick ages, confirms this. He vis- 
ited Paris in the year 1137, and attended upon the lectures 
of the famous Abelard and other masters, and made great 
advancements in learning. A number of years afterwards 
he returned to the place of his early studies, in order to 
confer with his former associates, who yet remained there, 
on the topicks, on which they had been used to converse. 

"I found them (says he) the same men, and in the same 

place ; nor had they advanced a single step towards resolv- 
ing our ancient questions, nor added a single proposition, 
however small, to their stock of knowledge. Whence, I 
inferred, what indeed it was easy to collect, that dialectick 
studies, however useful they may be when connected with 
other branches of learning, are in themselves barren and 
useless." 

§. 248^ Consider the importance of the subject 

It was the fault of the Schoolmen, not only that they 
too much cherished a disputatious spirit, but that they 
disputed upon subjects, which were in general of the 
most trivial kind. Mr. Locke mentions, that they actually 
thought themselves to have succeeded in proving, that 
black is white, and that white is black. And this may be 
received as a specimen of their exquisite inquiries, viz. 
Whether different colours, that is, different simple ideas, (a 
class of ideas forming a part of our knowledge the most 
clear and distinct,) be not the same colours, or the game 
ideas % — The example, which they set, in the selection of 
such subjects of debate, is to be avoided. Always debate 
on subjects of some importance. But the specification of 

what constitutes importance, is not easily done. It may 

be said, however, that there are some subjects, which pos- 
sess a general importance, viz. Such as concern the laws 



294 RULES OF DEBATE. 

of nature and the principles of the human constitution ; the 
rights of man, the duties of a citizen, the sources of pros- 
perity in civil communities, &c ; in general all philosophi- 
cal, moral, and political inquiries. There are a variety of 
other subjects, which are not of general importance, but 
are far from being of inconsiderable consequence to indi- 
viduals, since they concern their particular profession or 
calling. Many subjects are of great moment to the phy- 
sician or the merchant, which are of less importance to the 
farmer or mechanick. The importance of subjects, there- 
fore, is to be measured in some degree by their bearing 
upon those stations and duties, to which Providence has as- 
signed us. And however wanting they may be in gener^ 
al interest, no man is to be blamed for frequently discus?- 
sing them, when he is convinced, that such discussions 
will conduce to greater skill in his appropriate calling, 
and, consequently, to increased success and usefulness, 

§. 249. Of competency to enter into the discussion. 

It is proper, before undertaking to discuss a question, to 
pause, and make some inquiries into our ability for it. In- 
competency, or want of ability may be either owing to a 
deficiency, in some way, of mental power, or it may be ow- 
ing to our not having taken proper pains to inform our*- 
selves. Some may have too little talents ; and others, too 
limited an acquaintance with facts. — There is also another 
species of incompetency perhaps more frequent than either 
of these, viz. a too great personal interest in the decision. 
Nothing more disturbs the just exercise of reasoning, and 
causes perversion in our judgments, than this. And what 
renders the evil of it the greater, persons are often under 
influence from this source, without being themselves fully 
awaie of it.1 Whenever any one has ground to believe, that 
he is under any degree of bias of this kind, he should be 
more careful in the examination of evidence, and exercise 
the greater caution in general. 



RULES OF EEBJLTS. 295 

§. 250. Care to be taken in stating and understanding 
the question. 

Our desire of the truth and our adequacy for the dis- 
cussion of the question will not excuse us from a degree of 
circumspection in the statement of the point in debate. 

In the first place, the question is to be fairly stated. — 
No artifice here is to be allowed. The matter in contro- 
versy may be stated in such a way as to include in the very 
enunciation of it something taken for granted, which must 
necessarily lead to a decision in favour of one of the op- 
ponents. But this amounts to begging the question, a spe- 
cies of fallacy or sophism, upon which we shall again have 
occasion to remark. Sometimes the subject of discus- 
sion is stated so carelessly, that the true point at issue is 
wholly left out. It may be proper, therefore, in many cas- 
es to adopt the practice of special pleaders, and first t3 as- 
certain all the points, in which the opponents agree, and 
those in which they differ. And then they can hardly fail 
of directing their arguments to what is truly th> subject of 
contention. 

In the second place, we should aim to have clear ideas 
of every thing stated in the question, which has an inti- 
mate connection with the point at issue. If the inquiry 
concern some fact, we are to endeavour clearly to under- 
stand its nature, and then we can better judge of the weight 
of the evidence, which is made to apply to it. If the state- 
ment affirm or deny any thing, in regard to the qualities or 
properties of material bodies, it is incumbent upon us to 
possess as clear ideas as possible, both of the object in gen- 
eral, and of those properties or qualities in particular. 
Similar remarks will apply to other subjects of inquiry of 

whatever kind.; As an illustration of these directions, 

we will suppose, that the point in dispute is, Whether civ- 
il government originates from the people °l Here it is 
necessary to understand what is meant by the word, gov- 
ernment : that is, whether it is meant to include in the term 
all the different kinds of government, such as monarchical 
aristocratical, republican, &c<, and to give it the most gen- 



fH06 jlUL£« OF DESATg. 

eral meaning. The meaning of the word, originate, is alstf 
to be looked into. We are to know, whether the term, as 
here used, implies or admits the validity of a tacit agree- 
ment. In the inquiry, it will necessarily be admitted, that 
many governments exist without any written or express 
agreement ; and still it may be urgently contended, that 
they have originated by virtue of a tacit agreement. 

Again, the question is, Whether some political measure 
is constitutional, or unconstitutional? Here we are to ob- 
tain precise ideas of the measure in debate, and also inform 
ourselves of the terms or articles of the Constitution. — The 
taking of such precautions would often have prevented 
great waste of words, as well as undue indulgence of irri- 
table feelings ; and would have often led more directly 
to the discovery of truth. 

§. 251. Of simplicity of language in arguments. 

A brief remark here upon the dress or style, which is 
proper in arguments/ Let the word be suited to the idea, 
and be common without being vulgar ; and the con- 
struction of the sentences, as much as possible, without ar- 
tifice. There is a sincerity, when the mind is earnestly 
bent upon the discovery of truth, which delights in plain- 
ness of speech. This direction is especially necessary, 
when the force of an argument is meant not for ourselves 
only, but for others also ; and when perhaps many of those, 
to whom it is meant to apply, have not had the advantage 
of much education. Men of exalted minds have seen the 
propriety of the course here pointed out, and have followed 

it. Martin Luther remarked, in defence of his plain and 

direct way, that he had an eye on the multitude ; and an- 
other of his sayings, that logical power is the ability to 
teach, was an admirable commentary on the folly of the old 
Scholastick methods. 

<j>. 252. Ml trifling propositions to be avoided. 

Full of the subject, and bent, not so much upon putting 
down your opponent, as the discovery of truth, avoid all 



RULES OJT DEB AT J. SIT 

trifling propositions. And such propositions are all those, 
which communicate no new information. Of trifling pro- 
positions the first class may be termed, 

Identical propositions,— The proposition, whatever 

is, is, may be given as an instance. When examined, it 
will be found to teach us nothing ; and although it was, in 
the times of the Scholastick philosophy, employed as an 
axiom, and thought to be of much consequence in helping 
along as a medium in argument, the proof, which it brings 
in any case whatever, amounts to no more than this, that 
the same word may with certainty be predicated of itself. 
When we say that man is man, or that blue is blue, we re- 
ceive as much information and as valuable, as when we 
say, that whatever is, is ; that is, we know no more after- 
wards than we did before the enunciation of the proposi- 
tion. The same of all, which belong to this class. 
There is a second class of trifling propositions, viz. 
Those, in which a part only of the complex idea is predica* 
ted of the whole. 

Hence to this class of propositions belong all those, 
where the genus is predicated of the species ; when, for 
instance, it is said, that lead is a metal. 

When a person frames a proposition, it is supposed, that 
both he and his opponent know the meaning of the terms 
of the proposition ; and, accordingly, if they know the mean- 
ing of the term, lead, and what ideas are contained in it, 
it communicates no new information, either to the speak- 
er or to others, when it is asserted, that lead is a metal. 

Such propositions, as these, Man is rational, Gold is 
yellow or fusible, are of this kind. 

When, on the contrary, we are told, that man has a 
notion of God, or that man is cast into asleep by opium, 
we then learn something, since the ideas here expressed 
are not contained in the word, man. 

A proposition, then, may be said to be instructive or to 
convey information, when something is affirmed, which is 
a necessary consequence of any complex idea, but is not 
contained in it, and not otherwise. Take the following 
illustration ;— The external angle of all triangles is great- 
•38 



298 RULES OF DEBATE. 

er than either of the internal opposite an } T es. Here there 
is some information communicated, since the relation of 
the outward angle to either of the internal opposite angles, 
does not make a part of the complex idea conveyed by the 
word, triangle. 

The second class of trifling propositions, when care- 
fully examined into, will be found to be essentially the same 
with the first, although they have a little more the ap- 
pearance of conveying knowledge. 

In argument, when a word is employed with looseness 
and inconsistency, it is rightly considered to be a proper 
subject of criticism, and may be fairly objected to ; and 
the same liberty, and for the same reasons, may properly 
be taken with those propositions, which are called trifling ; 
which have the appearance of carrying us onward in the 
investigation of a subject, but which, when truly estimat- 
ed, leave us no wiser, than before we heard them. 

$. 253. Judgments to be formed on evidence, not on effects* 

Persons, engaged in debate, should aim at the truth in 
a fair and direct way ; and in doing this, they will find it 
important to regard another rule, viz. To be guided by 
evidence, rather than by consequences. We often imag- 
ine it highly desirable, that the question should be found 
to terminate in one way, rather than in another. We ought 
ever to form an opinion according to the preponderance of 
evidence, whatever effects may be connected with the for- 
mation of such opinions. This rule is of consider- 
able consequence, when questions are agitated among per- 
sons, belonging to different political or religious parties. 
If either of the disputants admits the sentiments of his op- 
ponent, he commits and injures those interests, which he 
has warmly espoused ; and this he is very unwilling to do. 
Especially is this unwillingness manifest, when a person 
is called upon to decide on facts, which involve the char- 
acter of a friend. Whenever we are thus influenced, it 

is manifest, that truth is not the main object, and that we 
are ready to sacrifice it to personal interest and pre- 



RULES OF DEBATE. $99 

conceived views.- — But, while our judgments should be 
formed wholly on the evidence, and not on the anticipated 
results, a consideration of consequences may have an im- 
portant influence of this kind, viz. in making us more scru- 
pulous and laborious in the examination of the subject be- 
fore us. 

§,. 254. Different sources of evidence on different questions. 

One subject admits of the application of one species of 
evidence ; another subject admits of evidence of a differ- 
ent kind. And the point under discussion should be look- 
ed at in this point of view, — in order to discover what spe- 
cies of evidence it admits. In demonstrations we have 

the evidence of intuition, and the conclusions are certain. 
In the examination of the properties of material bodies, we 
have the evidence of the senses. In judging of those facts 
in the conduct of men, which have not come under our 
own observation, we must depend on testimony. Some 
subjects admit only of the evidence of tradition, and in re- 
spect to others we have no other aid than analogy. And 
in others again the evidence is wholly made up of circum- 
stances. 

The evidence, which exists in demonstrations, produ- 
ces certainty ; that of the senses is the same, as far as it 
goes. The evidence of testimony causes probability in a 
greater or less degree, as the testimony is from one or 
more, given by a person, who understands the subject, to 
which it relates, or not, &c. Tradition, analogy, com- 
binations of mere circumstances have their weight, some- 
times strongly influencing our judgments, and at others, 
only in a small degree. 

Different kinds of evidence may be brought to bear up- 
on the same subject, and if so, all are to have their due 
weight. Other subjects admit of only one ; but should not 
fail of being examined on that account. In some cases, 
admitting of the evidence of circumstances merely, we 
may arrive at a high degree of probability. 



300 RULES OF DEBATE, 

§. 255. Sources of false judgments or sophisms* 

There is a species of false reasoning, which we call a 
sophism. A sophism is an argument, which contains some 
secret fallacy, under the general appearance of correctness. 

(1) Ignoratio elenchi, or misapprehension of the 
question, is one instance of the sophism. It exists, when the 
arguments advanced do not truly apply to the point in 
debate. Let it be supposed, that some person has found- 
ed a literary institution. The question is, Whether he be 
a man of learning, a scholar ? It is argued, that he is, in 
consequence of having founded a seminary for scientifick 
purposes. Here we may deny the connection between the 
premises and the conclusion, although the argument is 
somewhat specious ; because we know it to be the fact, 
that many men of but small information have been the pa- 
trons of science. That is, an argument is applied, which, it 
is supposed, would not have been brought forward, if there 
had been a proper understanding of the import and spirit 
of the tueition, and of what was justly applicable to it. 

(2) Petitio pi incipii, or begging of the question, is 
another instance of soph'sm. This sophism is found, 
whenever the disputant offers, in proof of a proposition, the 
proposition itself in other words. The following has been 
given as an instance of this fallacy in reasoning ; — A per- 
son attempts to prove, that God is eternal, by asserting, 
that his existence is without beginning and without end. 
Here the proof, which is offered, and the proposition itself, 
which is to be proved, is essentially the same. — When we 
are told, that opium causes sleep, because it has a sopo- 
rifick quality, or that grass grows by means of its vegeta- 
tive power, the same thing is repeated in other terms. — 
This fallacy is very frequently practised ; and a little care 
in detecting it would spoil many a fine saying, and deface 

many an elaborate argument. What is called arguing 

in a circle is a species of sophism very nearly related to the 
above. It consists in making two propositions recipro- 
cally prove each other. 

(3) Non causa pro causa, or the assignation of a false 



RULES OF DEBATE. 10 I 

cause. — People are unwilling to be thought ignorant; rath- 
er than be thought so, they will impose on the credulity of 
their fellow men, and sometimes on themselves, by assign^ 
ing false causes of events. Nothing is more common, 
than this sophism among illiterate people ; pride is not 
diminished by deficiency of learning, and such people, 
therefore, must gratify it by assigning such causes of events 
as they find nearest at hand. — Hence, when the appearance 
of a comet is followed by a famine or a war, they are dis- 
posed to consider it as the cause of those calamities. If 
a person have committed some flagrant crime, and shortly 
after suffer some heavy distress, it is no uncommon thing 
to hear the former assigned, as the direct and the sole 
cause of the latter. 

(4) Another species of sophistry is called fallacu 

accidentis. Vie fall into this kind of false reasoning, 

whenever we give an opinion concerning the general nature 
of a thing from some accidental circumstance. Thus, the 
Christian religion has been made the pretext for persecu- 
tions, and has in consequence been the source of much suf- 
fering ; but it is a sophism to conclude, that it is on the 
whole, not a great good to the human race, because it has 
been attended with this perversion. Again, if a medicine 
have operated in a particular case unfavourably, or, in an- 
other case, have operated very favourably, the universal 
rejection or reception of it, in consequence of the favoura- 
ble or unfavourable result in a particular instance, would 
be a hasty and fallacious induction of essentially the same 
sort. That is, the general nature of the thing is estimated 
from a circumstance, which may be wholly accidental. 

§. 256.0/ adherence to our opinions. 

Whenever the rules laid down have been followed, and 
judgments or opinions have been formed on a careful and 
candid examination of the evidence presented, those opin- 
ions are to be asserted and maintained with a due degree 
of confidence. Not that a person is to set himself up for 
infallible, and to suppose, that new accessions of evidence 



302 RULES OF DEBATE. 

are impossible, or that it is an impossibility for him to have 
new views of the evidence already examined. But a suit- 
able degree of stability is necessary in order to be respect- 
ed and useful ; and, in the case supposed, such stability 
can be exhibited without incurring the charge, which is 
sometimes thrown out, of doggedness and intolerance. 

It is further to be observed, that we are not always to 
relinquish judgments, which have been formed in the way 
pointed out, when objections are afterwards raised, which 
we cannot immediately answer. — The person thus attack- 
ed, can, with good reason, argue in this way ; — I have 
once examined the subject carefully and candidly ; the ev- 
idence, both in its particulars and in its multitude of bear- 
ings, has had its weight ; many minute and evanescent 
circumstances were taken into view by the mind, which 
have now vanished from my recollection ; T, therefore, do 
not feel at liberty to alter an opinion thus formed, in con- 
sequence of an objection now brought up, which I am un- 
able to answer ; but choose to adhere to my present judg- 
ment, until the whole subject, including this objection, 
can be re-examined. 

This reasoning would in most cases be correct, and 
would be entirely consistent with that love of truth and 
openness to conviction, which ought ever to be maintained. 

§• !257. Influence of the practice of debating on the mind. 

The art of debating, when pursued on proper princi- 
ples, is undoubtedly one of the noblest of arts. The able 
dialectician, who is known to refuse the application of his 
ability to any other, than what he deems good purposes, 
has greater influence, than he, who commands armies. 
Such men necessarily become leaders in the rising family 
of republickSj that is spreading over the face of the 

earth. But this art is not without its disadvantageous 

results, ngainst which it is necessary, that the student should 
be in some measure guarded. The results of dialecticks 
in the case of the Schoolmen have been already alluded to; 
and they have not always been of the most favourable n»- 



RULES of debate: 303 

ture, when the art has been practised with better views 
and under better regulations. Whenever a person has 
been occupied a great portion of his life in debates in 
courts of justice, or in legislative assemblies, or has from 
some causes been much involved, in polemical controver- 
sies, which have called forth all his powers, it has frequent- 
ly proved to be the case, that a character somewhat pecu- 
liar has been given to his mental operations. —To such 

persons we may give the name of professed debaters ; 
meaning by the phrase those, who either from choice or 
the pressure of circumstances, have been so much occupi- 
ed in debating, as to prevent a suitable degree of attention 
to other parts of intellectual culture. The unfavourable 
results, to which we allude, are these. 

(J.) The professed debater is not likely to take a broad 

view of a subject. Such has been his mental discipline, 

that he too readily attaches himself to one side of an in- 
quiry, and proposes to defend it, without having sufficient 
reasons for so doing. There are many things, which can 
neither be positively affirmed nor denied ; cases, where the 
true statement is neither in the affirmative nor the nega- 
tive, as the question stands proposed ; but probably some- 
where between them. A person is said to take a broad 
view of a subject, who examines it in all its parts, weighs 
evidence with care, and settles upon that opinion of it, 
whether affirmative, negative, or somewhere intermediate, 
which such careful examination of the evidence seems to 
him to warrant. 

(2) The professed debater is inordinately tenacious of his 
opinions. — — The subject of an adherence to our opinions 
has been already in some measure explained. Such adhe- 
rence was not considered blameworthy, except when car- 
ried so far, as to be inconsistent with a preference of the 
truth and a proper openness to conviction. But those per- 
sons, whom we have now in view, seize with a strong and 
masculine hold on such points, as are favourable to the 
side of any question, which they may have espoused. They 
have fallen into the habit of asserting their arguments with 
no small degree of confidence ; and are ready to believe 



304 RfrLliS OF DEBATfi. 

their own assertions, made in the ardour of feeling, which/ 
under other circumstances, they would probably have 
doubted. Having, therefore, been accustomed to de- 
fend their opinions, for so long a time, with much power 
of argument, and especially under the influence of excited 
feeling, in consequence of which they have often imposed 
upon themselves, their minds have gradually acquired a 
tenacity, which cannot but appear ungenerous^ and repul- 
sive to men of candour. 

Furthermore, — it has sometimes been remarked that 
professed debaters, who have been distinguished for their 
success in controversy, have at last become sceptical, wav- 
ering, full of uncertainty. They have so often disproved 

and put to flight the opinions, advanced by others, that 
they have become suspicious, that truth is to be found no 
where. This chaFacteristick, which is not unaccountable, 
although quite different from the result just stated, may be 
illustrated by the influence, which his success in polemi- 
cal controversies is said to have had on the mind of Chil- 
lingworth. The contemporaries of Chillingworth have 
borne the most honourable testimony to his native candour. 
He was at first undoubtedly desirous of learning the truth ; 
and without any undue inclination to scepticism, ready to 
give to evidence of whatever kind its due weight. The 
consequences, to which the training up of his vast powers 
to the sole art of disputation finally led, are stated by Lord 
Clarendon. — "Mr. Chillingworth had spent all his younger 
time in disputations and had arrived at so great a mastery, 
that he was inferiour to no man in those skirmishes ; but 
he had, with his notable perfection in this exercise, con- 
tracted sucli an irresolution and habit of doubting, that by 

degrees he grew confident of nothing." "Neither the 

books of his adversaries nor any of their persons, though 
he was acquainted with the best of both, had ever made 
great impression on him. All his doubts grew out of him- 
self, when he assisted his scruples with all the strength of 
his own reason ; and was then too hard for himself. But 
finding as little quiet and repose in those victories, he 
quickly recovered by a new appeal to his own judgment ; 



RULES OF DEBATE. 3©i 

so that, in truth, he was in all his sallies and retreats his 
own convert." 

§. 258. Influence of the study of the Law. 

These remarks may prove an useful hint to those youth, 
who are entering upon the study of the Law. Mr. Burke 
has said of this study, that it quickens and invigorates the 
mind more than all the other kinds of learning put togeth- 
er, but he is also of opinion, that it is not apt, except in 
persons very happily born, to open and to liberalize it, 
exactly in the same proportion. The observations, which 
have already been made on the tendency of the practice of 
disputation when carried to an extreme, go to confirm these 
remarks of Mr. Burke. There is this further remaining to 
be said, concerning the practice of the law, that the mem- 
bers of this profession are constantly under the necessity of 
referring to the provisions of the national constitution, 
to legislative enactments, and to court decisions. Hence 
their powers, however great, are fettered. They are com- 
pelled by the circumstances, under which they act, to show 
how the cause now under trial agrees or disagrees with 
principles already established, and with cases already de- 
cided upon. They are to measure the rectitude or want 
of rectitude in things by the standards already in existence, 
without having that liberty, which would be highly agreea- 
ble to minds of a philosophick turn> to institute inquiries 
into right and wrong in the abstract. 

And what is another circumstance quite unfavourable 
to the exercise of a free and philosophick spirit, they are 
apt to make references to legal decisions, legislative acts, 
&,c. under the influence of that bias, to which they are 
exposed in consequence of their zeal in behalf of the re- 
spective litigants, whose cause they may have espoused. 

If it be asked then, how happens it, that there are so 
many men in the practice of the law, who not only possess 
the power of making refined and acute distinctions, to- 
gether with wit and invention, but also in addition to these 
requisites of the Forum, are candid and liberal, and are 
capable, as any men whatever, of forming a discreet judg- 
39 



306 



RULES OF DEBATE. 



ment on any complicated concern ; the natural reply is, 
that such men, aware of the tendency of their professional 
contests, have guarded against it ; and, in the true spirit of 
an enlightened wisdom, have made a successful effort to 
keep the mind free, liberal, and well balanced against the 
contracting influence of their calling. 

§. 259. Reasoners not always able to express themselves* 

From these views in respect to the members of the legal 
profession and disputants in general, we naturally pass to 
the consideration of a class of persons, who are unable to 
hold an argument in words, but are regarded as men of 
good judgment, and, as will appear, are reasoners. 

How does it happen, that persons possessing the most 
just and efficient understandings are incapable of stating 
the grounds of their decisions to others ? — wise, prompt and 
consistent in their actions, but in their publick discourses 
obscure and perplexed ? 

The English Protector, Oliver Cromwell was a person 
of this description. (See §. 184.) — 'All accounts, says 
Mr. Hume, agree in ascribing to Cromwell a tiresome, dark, 
unintelligible elocution, even when he had no intention to 
disguise his meaning ; yet no man's actions were ever in 
such a variety of difficult cases, more decisive and judicious.' 

Many of the most respectable and valuable men in our 
legislative assemblies are persons, who are rarely heard in 
debate. W hile they are known to possess reach of thought 
and correctness of judgment, they exhibit in publick dis- 
cussion little more than confusion and apparent inability. — 
Mr. Jefferson, author of the Declaration of American inde- 
pendence, is declared by one of his illustrious associates, 
who knew him well, to have been a silent member of the 
Continental Congress. And yet he had at that period the 
reputation of literature and science, and of being a happy 
writer ; and lent great aid by his promptness and decision 
on committees. Instances of this sort are not unfrequent. 

In cases of this description, there is, — (1) Great rapid- 
ity of thought. The mind has been trained to rapid 



RULES OF DEBATE. 807 

views of subjects in all their bearings. The inability to 
speak in publick does not arise from incompetency in the 
examination of those minute circumstances, which enter 
into our judgments of difficult cases. On the contrary, 
these persons are found to give opinions, which may be re- 
ceived with confidence, with more promptness, than very 
many others. 

(2) There is, however, in such men, an inability to stop 

and analyze the current of thought.- They form their 

opinions with readiness and correctness, but when required 
to state the grounds of them, they are much at a stand ; 
they fail in imparting to others the various circumstances, 
which led to their own convictions. Many of those finer and 
more intricate suggestions, which had an influence on 
their conclusions, can no longer be retraced by the memo- 
ry. So that their argument, when stated in words, is but 
a series of propositions, poorly weighed and connected, 
mere " membra disjecta," compared with the more admi- 
rable texture of sheir mental logick. 

These remarks, we have already seen, are peculiarly 
applicable jo men in active life, who are almost constantly 
beset with the calls of business. They are necessarily 
from their situation rather men of actions, than of words ; 
called upon in many cases to decide suddenly, and not in 
general having leisure to form the habit of expressing 
themselves with effect and clearness to others. But their 
judgments are entitled to respect, resembling, as has been 
remarked by Dugald Stewart, the professional tact, with 
which the medical practitioner estimates the symptoms of 
a disease, or the intelligent eye-glance of the military en- 
gineer. An English officer, a friend of Lord Mansfield, 

was appointed to the government of Jamaica. He ex- 
pressed some doubts of his competency to preside in the 
court of chancery. Mansfield assured him, that he would 

not find the difficulty so great, as he imagined. " Trust, 

said he, to your own good sense in forming your opinions, 
but beware of attempting to state the grounds of your 
judgments. The judgments will probably be right ; the 
argument will infallibly be wrong." 



308 RULES OF DEBATE, 

§. 260. People may reason wrong but judge right, 

It appears, then, that people may sometimes be wrong 
in their argument, but correct in their conclusion. We 
would not have these expressions misunderstood. -All, that 
is intended, is, that an opinion may be given, which shall 
be correct, being founded on that silent, intellectual pro- 
cess, which has been mentioned, while an attempt at a 
verbal statement of the argument would prove an evident 
failure. In other words, the argument stated in language 
and the argument, as it exists in the mind, are not coined 
dent; there being chasms and inconsistencies in the for- 
mer, which did not exist in the latter. 

This enables us to throw some light on a mental pecu- 
liarity in old people. Those, who are advanced in years 
and in the declination of their mental powers, very seldom 
enter into an argument. Still we regard them with rever- 
ence, and receive their sententious sayings, as a species of 
oracles. The opinion seems to have gained almost as wide 
a reception in these days, as in the time of Job; — " With 
the ancient is wisdom, and in length of days is understanding." 
Old men by a sort of necessity have formed that kind of 
intuitive tact, which we see in men much involved in the 
business of active life. Owing to weakness of memory 
and a difficulty in fixing their attention, they find themselves 
unable to give a verbal statement of a considerable num- 
ber of consecutive propositions, either satisfactory to them- 
selves, or to others. Their reasonings, therefore, are mere- 
ly mental processes, leading them in general to conclu- 
sions, sufficiently just ;— the conclusions only, and not the 
propositions leading to them being communicated to others. 
— We see here an explanation, why old people are so fond 
of an aphoristical method, or rather why they express 
themselves so seldom in any other way, than by short say- 
ings. 

$. 261. Process of the mind in voting on Legislative 

* and other subjects, 

A proposition in some national legislature, perhaps 
whether the independence of some new formed republick 



RULES OF DEBATE. 



309 



shall be acknowledged, is to be discussed. The votes are 
taken and a majority of them are in favour of the acknowl- 
edgment of independence in the case proposed. Under 
this general question, the acknowledgment of independ- 
ence, it is easy to see, that there must be many subordinate 
propositions, having a connection more or less remote with 
the general question. 

The question we suppose to have been decided in the 
affirmative. Condorcet has expressed an opinion of this 
kind, that, if the vote were taken on every subordinate 
proposition, the decision might be directly the reverse, in 
the negative, instead of the affirmative. But this intimation 
of Condorcet, there is reason to believe, in view of the re- 
marks, which have been made, is incorrect. 

In voting on the general question, every member thus 
voting virtually gives his opinion also on every subordinate 
inquiry. There are perhaps five, eight, or ten minor sub- 
jects, which it is important for him to examine ; he has ex- 
amined them, andTiras in his own mind made up an opin- 
ion on them. And the last opinion, the opinion on the 
general question, may properly be considered the compar- 
ison, combination, and the result of all the subordinate or 
minor decisions. 

This is sometimes a very rapid mental process, so much 
so in some cases, as not to be remembered by the voter 
himself. But, if he be an honest man and desirous to give 
a judgment, which his own conscience would approve, 
something of this kind must have taken place. 

§. 262. Notices of treatises on reasoning. 

There are a few works in English, some of which will 
here be mentioned, which may give some further instruc- 
tion on the subject of this, and of the two preceding chap- 
ters. 

Locke's Conduct of the Understanding. — The object of this 
work is practical ; it is of less extent, as well of less value, 
than his Essay. But it has a number of original and im- 
portant remarks on demonstrative and other forms of rea- 
soning, on fallacies or sophisms, on the influence of prac- 



oH) RULES OF DEBATE. 

tice, on difference of natural talents, &c. The book ex^ 
hibits the characteristic!?: excellencies and defects of the 
writer ; great originality, but want of method, and too 
much of irrelevant discussion and of repetition for the 
economical habits of this busy age. 

Watts 1 Improvement of the Mind. — Dr. Johnson remark- 
ed in regard to this book, that he had perused it with great 
pleasure, and further observed, that instructers might be 
charged with deficiency in their duty, if they did not re- 
commend it. No doubt the warm commendations of Dr. 
Johnson are in the main correct ; but it seems necessary 
to observe, that the writer has advanced some views on the 
philosophy of the mind, which at the present day are re- 
garded as quite inadmissible. For instance, we find the 
notion, which was once prevalent, that ideas are pictures 
or images, that in memory these pictures are inscribed up- 
on the brain, much the same as the impression of the seal 
is left upon the wax, and that the greater or less degree of 
readiness in memory will depend on the greater or less 
degree of rigidity in the cerebral fibres. 

Gambler 's Introduction to the Study of Moral Evidence. — 
This valuable treatise contains many useful directions re- 
lating to moral reasoning, and examines particularly the 
subject of evidence ; — it cannot fail to be interesting and 
instructive to the student. 

The Study and Practice of the Law considered in their va- 
rious relations to Society. — This work, written in a series of 
letters, is ascribed to Sir James Mackintosh. The letters 
are addressed to the young and rising mind, without pro- 
fessing to add greatly to the stores of science. They re- 
mark on the duties in general, one owes to society, and is 
bound to perform ; suggest motives to great effort ; show 
the distinction between the philosophy and the forms of 
law ; with a variety of observations on method in business, 
on court pleadings, eloquence, imagination, &c. The work 
contains the suggestions of a phiiosophick mind, and is 
enlivened by eloquent passages. 



311 
CHAPTER TWENTY SECOND. 



OF MEMORY. 



^. 263. Explanation of the faculty of memory. 

Memory is that power or susceptibility of the mind, from 
which arise those conceptions, which are modified by the 
relation of past time. It is not a simple, but complex state 
of the intellectual principle, implying, (1) a conception of 
the object, (2) the relation of priority in its existence. 
That is, we not only have a conception of the object, but this 
conception is attended with the conviction, that it under- 
went the examination of our senses, or was perceived by us 
at some former period. 

When we imagine, that we stand in the midst of a for- 
est, or on the top of a mountain, but are snug all the 
while in our own chimney corner, these pleasing ideas of 
woods, and of skies painted over us, and of plains under our 
feet, are mere conceptions. But when with these insulated 
conceptions, we connect the relation of time ; and they 
gleam upon our souls, as the woods, plains, and mountains 
of our youthful days; then those intellectual states, which 
were before mere conceptions, become remembrances. 
And the susceptibility, which the mind possesses of these 
latter complex states, is what usually goes under the name 
of the power or faculty of memory. 

§. 264. Of differences in the strength of memory. 

The susceptibility of remembrances is the common pri- 
vilege of all, and, generally speaking, it is possessed in 
nearly equal degrees. To each one there is given a suffi- 
cient readiness in this respect ; his ability to remember is 
such, as to answer all the ordinary purposes of life. But, 
although there is in general a nearly equal distribution of 
this power, we find a few instances of great weakness and 
other instances of great strength of memory. 

It is related of the Roman orator, Horterisius, by Seneca, 



2(12 tot MEMORY. 

that, after sitting a whole day at a publick sale, he gave 
an account from memory, in the evening, of all things sold, 
with the prices and the names of the purchasers, and that 
this account, when compared with what had been taken in 
writing by a notary, was found to be exact in every par- 
ticular. 

The following is an instance of strength of memory 
somewhat remarkable. — An Englishman, at a certain time, 
came to Frederic the Great of Prussia for the express pur- 
pose of giving him an exhibition of his power of recollec- 
tion. Frederic sent for Voltaire, who read to his majesty 
a pretty long poem, which he had just finished. The En- 
glishman was present, and was in such a position, that he 
could hear every word of the poem ; but was concealed 
from Voltaire's notice. After the reading of the poem 
was finished, Frederic observed to the author, that the 
production could not be an original one ; as there was a 
foreign gentleman present, who could recite every word of 
it. Voltaire listened with amazement to the stranger, as 
he repeated, word for word, the poem, which he had been at 
so much pains in composing ; and giving way to a momen- 
tary freak of passion, he tore the manuscript in pieces. A 
statement, being made to him of the circumstances, mitigat- 
ed his anger, and he was very willing to do penance for the 
suddenness of his passion by copying down the work from 
a second repetition of it by the stranger, who was able to 
go through with it, as before. 

A great number of instances of this description are 
found in the records of various individuals, but they must 
be considered as exceptions to the general features of the 
human mind, the existence of which cannot be explained 
on any known principles. As no one can tell, why one 
oak on the mountains is tall and large, while its neighbour, 
on the same soil and of the same description of trees, re- 
mains stinted and dwarfish ; so we find ourselves unable 
to give any philosophick explanation of such instances as 
have been mentioned. 

But there are also weak memories, so much so, as to be 



OF MEMORY. 313 

properly considered exceptions to the generally equal dis- 
tribution of this mental susceptibility. Individuals can be 
found, from whose memory truths have passed away almost 
the moment after they have been acquired ; and who, in 
the management of the common concerns of life, discover 
a forgetfulness extremely unfortunate and perplexing. In- 
stances of this kind are indeed not so frequently found 
recorded as of an opposite description ; because it is more 
pleasing and satisfactory to the literary annalist to record 
the excellencies, than the defects of the mind. 

§. 265. Power of memory in operating with numbers* 

There have been some remarkable instances of mental 
power in operating with numbers ;— One (§. 63.) has been 
before stated. These instances differ from those, where a 
good degree merely of natural talents has been improved by 
assiduous efforts. The combination of good natural abili- 
ties and of long continued practice has wrought out for 
many individuals usefulness, admiration, and fame. These 
worthy cases may be considered common ; others, like that of 
Buxton, a native of Derbyshire, Eng. are extraordinary. This 
singular man had no education, not being able to write his 
name ; however, it is said, that he learnt the multiplication 
table in his youth. He invented an unwieldy sort of no- 
tation, reckoning, after he had gotten beyond millions, by 
tribes, and' by cramps ; — a method, which probably no one 
else has ever thought it worth while to employ. Among 
his common operations in figures was that of multiplying 
five or six figures by as many, or dividing as large sums, 
without pen, chalk, or slate, in as short time as the most 
expert arithmeticians could do it with them. It is mention- 
ed of him, as a well attested fact, that on a certain occa- 
sion he multiplied thirty nine figures by thirty nine figures* 
This took him some time ; but when we remember, that 
the operation was performed without slate, or paper, or 
any other aids of the kind, it is well worthy of admiration. 
This person was capable of great abstraction of thought. 
Ignorant as he was, numbers had a peculiar charm for him* 
40 



314 OF MEMORY. 

and he could pursue his calculations in the midst of noiie 
and company, as well as in solitude. 

On the case of Jedediah Buxton, as well as on that 
above referred to, and on others similar, two remarks are to- 
be made ; and if these are not enough to explain them, it 
is to be hoped, that, in due season, further light may be 
thrown on these intellectual phenomena. 

(1) It appears, that in all such instances, the suscepti- 
bility of remembering numbers is very great. As to their 
power of remembrance in othar things, there seems to be 
but little evidence, that they were anxious to make the tri- 
al. (2) There is a wonderful power of attention. They 

are capable of withdrawing their thoughts from other 
things, and of fixing them, in a very high degree, on the 
calculations, with which they are occupied. This ability 
of drecting the mind to one subject, exclusively of a regard 
to others, implies, of course, a strong feeling of interest or 
desire ; and figures have for all these persons a charm, which 
is not possessed by any other signs of thought. These are 
the prominent facts ; and many will think, nothing more 
need be said. 

But it is replied, that they perform their operations with 
very uncommon rapidity. True ; — so the expert accountant, 
who makes no pretensions to any other readiness, than can 
be acquired by practice, sums up in a minute a column of 
figures, which would occupy another person an half an 
hour. The rapidity of their operations is to be chiefly at* 
tributed to habit. 

Note. We have known nothing more remarkable, than 
the following instance. In the summer of 1812, a youth 
appeared in London about eight years of age, a native of 
the United States. His education had been very limited, 
and like Jedediah Buxton, he was unacquainted both with 
writing and cyphering. As the report of his being some- 
what of a prodigy was rapidly circulated, many persons, 
very soon after his arrival in London, made it a point to 
call and converse with him. It was found, that he could 
determine with the greatest ease and despatch the exact 
number of minutes or seconds in any given period of time. 
He was able to tell the exact produet, arising from the 



€>¥ MEMORY. 315 

§. 266. Of exploded opinions in regard to memory. 

It is fortunate, that, at the present day, there is such a 
general disposition to apply the inductive method of reas- 
oning, in attempting to ascertain the general facts or the 
laws of our mental operations. In general, no one stops to 
inquire, how the mind operates, although that may be a 
proper inquiry when pursued on the inductive method, but 
what are its operations ; and free from the impatience of 
those,who are continually offering hypotheses, we are requir- 
ed to observe and to classify. It has not always been thus. 
Men have too often speculated, rather than examined ; and 
have taken up with the mere suggestions of their fancies. 

We have formerly been furnished with hypotheses in 
regard to the memory, as well as other acts of the mind ; not 
to say any thing of the hypotheses in respect to the gener- 
al nature of the mind itself. The following ar~ " u - "deas 
of Malebranche, as they are found in his Search after Truth. 

He supposes, that the soul has its residence in the 

brain, and in a particular part of it. In every perception, 
which we have, and in all acts of the mind whatever, there 
are certain changes in the fibres of the part of the brain, 
where the soul resides. This being admitted, he assures 
us, that the nature of memory is explained. It is to be 



multiplication of any number, which consisted of two, 
three, or four figures, by any other number, made up of the 
like number of figures. VVhen any number, consisting of 
six or seven places of figures, was proposed to him, he was 
found able to state, almost as soon as it was mentioned, all 
the factors, of which it is composed. He could extract 
the square and cube roots of numbers, as in the other eases, 
without the assistance of ink or pencil. He was asked the 
square root of 1 06,929, and before the number could be writ- 
ten down, he immediately answered 327. Being required 
to give the cube root of 268,336,125, he replied with equal 
promptness 645. 

This lad is said to have been a native of Vermont ; it does 
not seem, that any thing further can with much safety be of- 
fered in explanation here, than has already been said in re- 
ference to the other instances above given. 



316 . OF MEMORY. 

remembered, that the fibres of the brain are bent at every 
new perception. Now what do we find to be the fact, 
when the branches of a tree have been bent in a particular 
direction, and especially, when they have continued so for 
some time ? Evidently, that they acquire an aptitude to be 
bent anew after the same manner. In the same way, the 
fibres of the brain, having received certain impressions by 
the course of the animal spirits, acquire a facility, or per- 
haps we may say, a habit of receiving certain arrange- 
ments. It is in this facility, that memory is said by Male- 
branche to consist, since we always think of the same 
things, when the brain receives the same impressions, and 
its fibres are similarly affected as at former times. 

This hypothesis is somewhat different from that, men- 
tioned at page 310, as having been received by Dr. Watts. 
But nothing, which is worthy to be called proof, has been 
offered in favour of either ; and they are mentioned, not 
because it is necessary to confute them, but because it may 
be found profitable to know, what erroneous opinions have 
sometimes found their way into the belief of well-meaning 
and learned men. (See Malebranche's Search after Truth, 
Book II. chapter 5.) 

§. 267. Of the effects of disease on the memory. 

But however disposed we may be to reject such fanci- 
ful hypotheses as those above alluded to, it seems to be 
well established, that there is a connection of some kind 
between the mind and body. We rightly and fairly infer, 
that there is such a connection, because there are a multi- 
tude of facts, which can be explained on no other supposi- 
tion ; but in what way, or to what extent it exists, it would 
be worse than futile to assert, with the limited knowledge, 
which we at present possess. (See §. 94) The gener- 
al truth, however, that there is a connection of some sort 
between the mind and body, and, consequently, a recipro- 
cal influence, is confirmed, besides other sources of evi- 
dence, by some facts in respect to the memory. — I have 
read, (says Dr. Beattie,) of a person, who, falling from the 



OF MEMORY. 317 

top of a house, forgot all his acquaintances, and even the 
faces of his own family ; and of a learned author, who, on 
receiving a blow on the head by a folio dropping from its 
shelf, lost all his learning, and was obliged to study the al- 
phabet the second time. He further remarks, that he was 
himself acquainted with a clergyman, who was attacked 
with a fit of apoplexy. After his recovery, he was found 
to have forgotten all the transactions of the four years im- 
mediately preceding, but remembered as well as ever what 
had happened before that period. The newspapers, which 
were printed during the period mentioned, were read 
with interest, and afforded him a great deal of amusement, 

being perfectly new. Thucydides, in his account of 

the plague of Athens, makes mention of some persons, who 
survived that disease ; but their bodily sufferings had af- 
fected their mental constitution, so that they had no recol- 
lection of their own former history, had forgotten their 
friends, and every thing else. 

From many instances of this kind, and from others, 
which go to prove, that the state of the mind, on the other 
hand, often has a very perceptible effect on the bodily 
functions, it may justly be inferred, that there is a connec- 
tion existing between the mind and body, and that a recip- 
rocal influence is exercised. But what that precise con- 
nection is ; whether it be limited, on the part of the body, 
to the brain ; on what it depends ; in what ways it is mod- 
ified ; are inquiries, which cannot be satisfactorily answer- 
ed at present, whatever hypotheses may be proposed. 
Why a fever, or an attack of apoplexy, or a removal of a 
part of the brain, or an inordinate pressure of it, which 
are effects on the body, should affect the mind, a spiritual 
substance, which is supposed to be essentially different 
from matter, no one is able to say. — The fact, however, 
that such a reciprocal connection exists, suggests a reason 
for a due degree of attention to the physical system. The 
importance of a healthy and vigorous constitution of the 
body, as being very nearly connected with a correspond- 
ing health and vigour of the intellectual principle, should 
#ver be remembered by those in the pursuit of knowledge. 



318 OF MEMORY. 

§. 368. Suggestions on the ultimate restoration of thought 

It is said to have been an opinion of Lord Bacon, that 
no Thoughts are lost, that they continue virtually to exist, 
and that the soul possesses within itself laws, which, when- 
ever fully brought into action, will be found capable of 
producing the prompt and perfect restoration of the collec- 
ted experiences of its whole past existence. This opinion 
seems to be adopted in an article on the laws of associa- 
tion in Biographia Literaria of S. T. Coleridge. By 
looking at §. 98, it will be seen, that various facts may be 
brought forward, going to show, that this opinion, which 
involves the most important moral consequences, may have 
some foundation. The subject is suggested here, in conse- 
quence of the remarks in the last section, on the reciprocal 
influence of mind and body; it appearing beyond doubt, 
that in certain conditions of the body, especially when the 
brain is much affected, some of the laws of the mind un- 
dergo a vast increase both in strength and rapidity of oper- 
ation. But as intellectual philosophy can never become 
the true " metaphysicks," the true " first philosophy," 
without a continual recurrence to facts and careful induc- 
tions from them, we take this opportunity to insert the sub- 
stance of a statement to be found in the Biographia of the 
last mentioned writer. It is a statement of some facts, 
which became known to him, in a tour to Germany in 1798. 

In a Catholick town of Germany, a young woman of 
four or five and twenty, who could neither read nor write, 
was seized with a nervous fever, during which she was in- 
cessantly talking Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, with much 
pomp and distinctness of enunciation. The case attracted 
much attention, and many sentences, which she utter- 
ed, being taken down by some learned persons pre- 
sent, were found to be coherent and intelligible, each 
for itself, but with little or no connection with each 
other. Of the Hebrew only a small portion could be tra- 
ced to the Bible ; the remainder was that form of Hebrew, 
which is usually called Rabbinick. Ignorant, and simple, 
arid harmless, as this young woman was known to be, no 



OF MEMORY. 319 

one suspected any deception ; and no explanation could 
for a long time be given, although inquiries were made for 
that purpose, in different families, where she had resided, 
as a servant. Through the zeal, however, and philo- 
sophical spirit of a young physician, all the necessary in- 
formation was in the end obtained. The woman was of poor 
parents, and at nine years of age had been kindly taken to 
be brought up by an old Protestant minister, who lived at 
some distance. He was a very learned man ; being not 
only a great Hebraist, but acquainted also with Rabbinical 
writings, the Greek and Latin Fathers, &c. The passages, 
which had been taken down in the delirious ravings of the 
young woman, were found by the physician precisely to 
agree with passages in some books in those languages, 
which had formerly belonged to him. But these facts 
were not a full explanation of the case. It appeared on 
further inquiry, that the patriarchal protestant had been in 
the habit for many years of walking up and down a passage 
of his house, into which the kitchen door opened, and to 
read to himself, with a loud voice, out of his favourite 
books. This attracted the notice of the poor and igno- 
rant domestick, whom he had taken into his family ; the 
passages made an impression on her memory ; and many 
years afterwards, when her body was racked with pain, and 
her brain burning with a fever, they were vividly restored 
to her recollection, and were uttered in the way, which 
has been mentioned. 

From this instance, and from several others of the same 
kind, which Mr. Coleridge asserts can be brought up, he 
is inclined to educe the following positions or inferen- 
ces. (1) Our thoughts may, for an indefinite time, ex- 
ist, in the same order, in which they existed originally, and 

in a latent or imperceptible state. (2) As a feverish 

state of the brain, (and of course any other peculiarity in 
the bodily condition,) cannot create thought itself, nor 
make any approximation to it, but can only operate, as an 
excitement or quickener to the intellectual principle ; it 
is, therefore, probable, that all thoughts are, in themselves, 
imperishable.- (3) In order greatly to increase the pow _ 



320 ©F MEMORY. 

er of the intellect, he supposes it would require only a dif- 
ferent organization of its material accompaniment. 

(4) And, therefore, the presentation of the dread book of 
final judgment may be no other, than the investment of 
the soul with a celestial instead of a terrestrial body ; and 
that this may be sufficient to restore the perfect record of 
the multitude of its past experiences. He supposes, it 
may be consistent with the nature of a living spirit, that 
heaven and earth should sooner pass away, than that a 
single act, or thought, should be loosened and effectually 
struck off from the great chain of its operations. 

In giving these conclusions, the exact language of the 
writer has not been followed, but the statement made will 
be found to give what seems to have been his meaning. 
These conclusions afford materials for reflection ; the just- 
ness of them is to \>e determined by a consideration of the 
facts, on which they are founded. Similar facts, or rather 
facts, leading to similar conclusions, were mentioned at 
§. 98 ; and taken together, they undoubtedly show, that the 
mind, in consequence of alterations even in the material 
system merely, with which it is here connected, may be 
rendered susceptible of an augmentation of power and 
quickness in its operations, which at first sight seems in- 
conceivable. It is, therefore, not impossible, that thoughts 
may hereafter be recalled, which we now imagine to be 
not only forgotten, but utterly lost ; it is not impossible, 
that, at some future time, our past life may be reanimated, 
realizing in us not only a resurrection of the body, but a 
resurrection also of the multiplied acts of the soul. 

§. 269. Memory of the uneducated. 

There is a peculiarity in the memories of uneducated 
people, of mcchanicks, formers, day-labourers, and of all 
others, who, from the pressure of their particular callings, 
may have had but little means of mental culture. This 
peculiarity is seen in their great readiness in the recollec- 
tion of places, times, arrangements in dress and in build- 
ings, local incidents, &c. In their narrations they will be 
fourid to specify the time of events; not only the year, but 



of MEMoar. 321 

the month, and day, and in their description of persons 
and places are not less particular. This trait in the men- 
tal character of* this class of people seems to have arrested 
the notice of Shakespeare. 

Mrs. Quickly, in reminding Sir John FalstafF of his 
promise of marriage, discovers her readiness of recollec- 
tion in the specification of the great variety of circumstan- 
ces, under which the promise was made. — —Thou didst 
swear to me on a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin cham- 
ber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednesday in 
Whitsun week, when the prince broke thy head, for likening 

him to a singing man of Windsor, &c. The coachman 

in Cornelius Scriblerus gives an account of what he had 
seen in Bear-garden ; — Two men fought a prize ; one was 
a fair man, a serjeant in the guards ; the other black, a butcher ; 
the serjeant had red trousers, the butcher blue ; they fought up- 
on a stage about four o'clock, and the serjeant wounded the 
butcher in the leg. 

The explanation of this peculiarity of memory in com- 
mon people is this. It will be kept in mind, that our 

remembrances are merely conceptions, modified by rela- 
tions of past time. Removing then the modification of 
past time, and the remaining element of our remembran- 
ces will be conceptions. Our conceptions cannot be call- 
ed up by a mere voluntary effort, because to will the exis- 
tence of a conception necessarily implies the actual exist- 
ence of the conception already in the mind. Our concep- 
tions, therefore, arise in the mind on the principles of asso- 
ciation or simple suggestion. We come, then, directly 

to the fact, which explains that peculiarity or characteris- 
tick of memory, of which we are speaking. 

The knowledge, which is possessed by persons of very 
small education, will be found to be connected together 
by the most obvious and easy principles of association ; for 
instance, contiguity in place and time. These people have 
been very much, we may say chiefly, in the practice of as- 
sociating those things, which happened at the same time, 
or were proximate in position. It may be thought, that 
mere time and place are very unimportant relations, but 
41 



322 OF MEMORY. 

however that may be, they most strongly seize the notice 
of persons of small education ; and by means of them, their 
overflowing multitude of remembrances is kept in place. 
Having by almost constant exercise greatly strengthened 
the tendency to those associations, which exist in conse- 
quence of mere contiguity, they can very readily tell you, 
not only the precise place,where any thing has happened, but 
almost every thing, which has happened in the immediate 
neighbourhood ; not only the time, when the event occur- 
red, but many other things, which occurred about the same 
period. (See in connection with these remarks, §. 158.) 

§. 270. Memory of men of philosophick minds. 

From speaking of the power of remembrance in the 
uneducated, we naturally turn to persons of a reflecting, 
and philosophick mental character, It has often been re- 
marked of such, that they discover want of readiness of 
recollection. The servant in the family of the philoso- 
pher will be likely to know much more about the fields, 
and fences, and cattle of the neighbours ; will be more 
minutely acquainted with their individual dress, and man- 
ners, and habits, than the philosopher himself. More than 
this, he has an aptness, an ability at remembering things of 
this nature, which his philosophick master evidently does 

not possess. Again, we suppose a battle to have been 

fought ; persons of limited intellectual culture will tell you 
the precise day of the month, the exact number of troops, 
the names of the regiments, the amount of killed and wound- 
ed, and many trifling incidents of individuals, whether sol- 
emn or ludicrous, which are fitted subsequently to enliven 
the narrations of the fireside. But the philosopher, who has 
read the same accounts, does not remember these particu- 
lars, and finds it a very difficult thing to do it. But we 
perceive, that his mind has been profitably employed in 
reflections on the causes of the battle, on various striking 
developements of human character in its heat and bustle, 
and on its effects upon the happiness, or misery of families, 
and nations. 



OF MEMORY. 323 

Many have imagined, that the memory of the uneduca- 
ted, because it deals so much in minute particulars, is in- 
trinsically stronger, than of others. It is, no doubt, to the 
multitude a more imposing species of memory, and admi- 
rably answers the purpose of those, in whom it appears. 
But mere contiguity in time and place, which is almost the 
sole principle that binds together events in the recollec- 
tion of such persons, is of but small consequence in the 
estimation of the philosopher. He looks more deeply into 
the nature of things ; their mere outward and incidental 
circumstances do not particularly arrest his attention ; and 
consequently his knowledge is connected together by less 
obvious and ready, but more important principles, such as 
analogy, cause and effect. 

§. 271. Of 'the memory of 'the aged. . 

A defect of memory is often noticed in persons, who 
are advanced in years. Very few retain those powers of 
recollection, which they possessed in earlier days. "Age, 
says Ossian, is now on my tongue, and my soul has failed ; 
memory fails on my mind." 

The failure of this mental susceptibility in the aged 
seems to be owing to two causes, viz. the impaired state 
of the organs of perception, and a defect of attention. 

(1) Their organs of external perception are impaired. 

We find it difficult, in consequence of the failure of 
their sense of hearing, to converse with people, advanc- 
ed in years, and it requires a great effort, both in our part 
and theirs, to make them understand what we say. The 
.most conclusive arguments, and flashes of wit, and rich 
strains of musick have in a great measure ceased to excite 

in them any interest. There is a like failure of the sense 

of seeing also. They no longer take pleasure in the de- 
lightful aspects of creation ; and the waving forest, and the 
gay beams of the sun, although they have not ceased to 

have charms for others, have none for them. All the 

other senses fail of their wonted operation in the same way; 
and the natural and necessary consequence is, that the 



\ 



*24 OF MEMORT. 

ideas, which are let in by the senses, make but a very fee- 
ble impression, and are almost immediately erased from the 
mind. 

(2) The second cause of the weakness of memory, of which 

old people complain, is a defect in attention. That mental 

exercise, to which we give the name of attention, always 
implies desire, an emotion of interest ; and without an emo- 
tion of this description, it cannot exist. But the world, 
(including in the term what is beautiful in nature, and 
what is important in the duties and callings of life,) has at 
last ceased to excite the emotions, which it formerly awak- 
ened. The aged are like the prisoner, released, in the 
period of the French revolution, from the Bastille ; they 
find themselves, as it were, in a new creation, which pas- 
ses before them with great indistinctness, and with which 
they feel but little sympathy. And why should it be 
thought unnatural, that they should neglect in some meas- 
ure that scene of things, which has already learnt to forget 
and to neglect them 9 As their organs of external per- 
ception have failed them, and there has also been a defect 
of attention, the memory, as a natural consequence, has 
become powerless and broken. 

It should, however, be remarked here, that, notwith- 
standing what has been said, aged people often recal, with 
great readiness and precision, the feelings and the incidents 
of their youth. As when a man, who has been greatly 
prospered, but who at last meets with sudden and disastrous 
reverses of fortune, finds, in this new state of things, his 
obsequious attendants fleeing away and turning against 
him, while only a few early friends remain unmoved in 
evil and good report ; so early feelings and early associa- 
tions appear to cling with a faithful fondness to the shat- 
tered intellects of the aged. The old soldier, who had 
a share in the American Revolution, will sit down by his 
fireside and describe with great particularity the scenes, 
where he toiled and bled, and yet be qtiite unable to give 
an account of the incidents of the preceding week. 

The explanation of this trait in the mental aspects of 
the aged seems to be this. As a general statement, our 



OF MEMORY. 32 £ 

early feelings and our early associations are the strongest. 
That they should be so is not strange, since we have then 
entered on a state of things, which, in its essential features, 
is new, and which, in all its diversities of duty, and plea- 
sure, and danger, attracts, and excites us by continual nov- 
elty. W ho can forget the plains, where he wandered in 
early life ? Who can erase from his recollection the asso- 
ciates of those days of wonder, activity, and hope ? Who 
can obliterate from his heart his toils, and his sufferings, 
and his joys, all which assumed a peculiar emphasis and 
importance, being connected with future prospects, the 
adversities and the successes of after life ? — —These things 
remain, while others vanish. Such feelings, so deeply 
fixed in the mind, and bound together and made perma- 
nent by the strength of a mutual association, are frequent- 
ly recalled ; they recur to the soul in the activity and bus- 
tle of life, and in those more favoured moments, when it is 
given up to silent and solemn meditations. .The effect of 
this frequent recurrence can easily be imagined. The 
early impressions, which are the subjects of such recur- 
rence, become in time, if one may be allowed the expres- 
sion, a part of the mind itself; they seem to be woven into 
its existence. Hence old men, who have no eye and no hear- 
ing for the events, that are passing around them, repeat, 
with the greatest animation, the stories of scenes, and ac- 
tions, and friendships of fifty years ago. 

$. £72. Memory of persons of a rich imagination. 

It is a remark of Dr. Watts, that a fine genius is often 
found to have but a feeble memory. By a fine genius he 
probably understood what we commonly mean by a person 
of a rich imagination ; that is, one, who is furnished with 
a rich store of images, has readiness in the perception of 
their congruity or incongruity with each other, and of 
course has great power in the formation of various new 
combinations. 

Such a person finds a luxuriance of wealth in himself. 
He is continually and happily entertained with the new 
pictures, which his imagination creates. Hence he does 



326 



Or MEMORY. 



not so much entertain himself with outward events ; many 
facts, which are particularly noticed and retained by oth- 
ers, pass by him unregarded ; and, therefore, quickly es- 
cape from his remembrance. Montaigne (§. 7.) seems 
to have been a person of this description ; acquainted with 
the general principles of the sciences, possessing an exu- 
berance of intellectual riches, but utterly incapable of re- 
membering dates, times, places, and the numerous matters- 
of-fact of every day 5 s occurrence. 

Weakness of memory in persons of a rich imagination 
is discovered also in their reading of books. The reason 
of it seems to be a too great confidence in their own abili- 
ty. Conscious of their own resources, they are tempted to 
peruse books in a hasty and careless manner, and without 
due attention. The result of this careless manner, both in 
respect to events and the sentiments of authors, is that they 
are but imperfectly known at first, and are very speedily 
forgotten. This will not appear strange, in connection 
with the remarks at §. 1 75, on the connection existing be- 
tween memory, and attention. The weakness of memory, 
therefore, in persons of rich imagination is not constitution- 
al and permanent, but a matter of mere accident ; and, for 
this reason, the more discreditable. When such persons have 
habitually taken an interest in the common affairs of life, 
they are found to remember their details, however unpoet- 
ical ; and in their reading of authors nothing seems to be 
wanting, but interest and attention, in order to secure them 
from the reproach, under which they are thought to labour. 

§. 273. On the compatibility of strong memory and 
good judgment. 

By judgments we in general understand nothing more 
than the opinions, which we form in view of evidence ; in 
other words, they are the results or conclusions of moral 
reasoning. By a person of good judgment, we generally 
mean one, who examines subjects with caution, and whose 
results, founded on such examination, for the most part, 
prove correct. That persons may possess, in a very high 
degree, the susceptibility of memory, and still be incapable 



OF MEMORY. Ml 

of correct moral reasoning, or of exhibiting any other indi- 
cations of a well judging mind, is a fact well known- 
There have even been idiots, who certainly could present 
no claims to the character of judging well, that have, nev- 
ertheless, been remarkable for memory. Such are, indeed, 
instances of an extreme kind ; — however, there are not 
wanting many other cases, where strong memories have 
been found united with feeble judgment. On this fact, it 
may be remarked, as follows. 

The connection between a strong memory and a weak 
judgment, it may be said without any hesitation, is not 
necessary, but merely accidental ; that is, is not the constitu- 
tion of nature, but in general the result of circumstances. 
As it is an accidental state of things, and not any thing 
essential and permanent in our mental structure, we must 
look for its appropriate cause in erroneous mental disci- 
pline. It may well be supposed, that, those, who pos- 
sess strong memories, are not insensible of their excellence 
in this respect ; and the approbation, which they have re- 
ceived in consequence of it, encourages them to treasure 
up a dry collection of all facts, which will, in any way, bear 
repetition. Dates, genealogies, local incidents, tradition- 
al anecdotes, are all seized, and retained with peculiar 
avidity. But too much intent upon the mere dates and 
names of things, such persons fail to inquire into their true 
nature ; they neglect other and more important forms of 
mental discipline ; and thus justly sustain the reputation 
of possessing a showy, rather than discriminating and sound 
knowledge. In instances of this description, the relations, 
by which the suggested trains of thought are associated, are 
the more slight and obvious ones, such as of time, place, &c. 
But there are some exceptions to this unwise course ; 
individuals may be found, who, with an astonishing ability 
torecal the most unimportant incidents of daily occurrence, 
as well as the dry details of historical facts, combine the 
far more enviable ability of discriminating the true differ- 
ences of things, of combining means for the attainment of 
ends, and of rightly estimating evidence in its various ap- 



32*$ of MEMORY. 

plications ; which are among the characteristic^ of titetf 
of sound judgment. 

§. 274. Intentional memory or recollection. 

The definition of memory, which has been given, is, 
that it is the power or susceptibility of the mind, from 
which arise those conceptions, which are modified by the 
relation of past time. This definition necessarily resolves 
memory in good part into association, or what Mr. Brown 
has preferred to term suggestion. It is, therefore, to be 
here observed, that our trains of associated thought are not 
voluntary ; that is, are not directly under the control of 
the will. They come and depart, without it being possi- 
ble for us to exercise any thing more, than an indirect gov- 
ernment over theni. (See §;' 173.) It follows from these 
facts, that our remembrances also are not voluntary ; or, 
in other words, it is impossible for us to remember in con- 
sequence of merely choosing to remember. To will or to' 
choose to remember any thing implies, that the thing in 
question is already in the mind ; and hence there is not 
only an impossibility resulting from the nature of the mind, 
but also an absurdity, in the idea of calling up thought by 
volition. Our chief power, therefore, in quickening and 
strengthening the memory, will be found to consist in our 
skill in applying and modifying the various principles or 
laws of association. And this brings us to a considera- 
tion of what is called intentional memory or recollection; 
a subject, which was partly illustrated in the section above 
referred to. 

Whenever we put forth an exercise of intentional mem- 
ory, or make a formal attempt to remember some circum- 
stance, it is evident, that the event in general, of which 
the circumstance when recalled will be found to be a part, 
must have previously been an object of attention. That 
is,'we remember the great outlines of some story, but can 
not, in the first instance, give a complete account of it, 
which we wish to do. We make an effort to recal the cir- 
cumstances not remembered in two ways. We may, in 

th& 'first place, form different suppositions, and sec, which 



OF HEMOItT. 



32$ 



agrees best with the general outlines ; the general features 
or outlines of the subject being detained before us, with a 
considerable degree of permanency, by means of some 
feeling of desire or interest. This method of restoring 
thoughts is properly an inference of reasoning. 

vVe may, in the second place, delay upon those thoughts, 
which we already hold possession of; and revolve them in 
our minds ; until, aided by some principle of association, 
we are able to lay hold of the particular ideas, for which 
we were searching. Thus, when we endeavour to recite 
what we had previously committed to memory, but are at 
a loss for a particular passage ; we repeat, a number of 
times, the concluding words of the preceding sentence. 
In this way, the sentence, which was forgotten, is very fre- 
quently recalled. 

§. 275. Instance illustrative of the preceding. 

We had occasion, in -a former section, to mention 
the case of an individual, who, in consequence of an attack 
of apoplexy, forgot all the transactions of the four years 
immediately preceding. It is further to be observed here, 
that the same individual recovered by degrees all he had 
lost ; so as nfter a while to have nearly or quite as full a 
remembrance of that period, as others. In this instance 
the power of the principles of association appears to have 
been at first completely prostrated by the disease, without 
any prospect of their being again brought into action, ex- 
cept by some assistance afforded them. This assistance, 
no doubt, was reading and conversation. Bv reading old 
newspapers and by conversation, he, from time to time, 
fell upon ideas, which he had not onlj been possessed of 
before, but which had been associated with other ideas, 
forming originally distinct and condensed trains of thought. 

And thus whole series were restored. Other series again 

were recovered by applying the methods of intentional 
recollection ; that is, by forming suppositions and com- 
paring them with the ideas already recovered, or by con- 
tinually revolving in mind such trains as were restored* 
and thus rousing up others. Such, we can hardly doubt, 
42 



330 01" MEMORY, 

to have been, in the main, the process, by which the per- 
son, of whom we are speaking, recovered the knowledge, 
he had lost. 

These views, in addition to what has now been said > 
may be illustrated also by what we sometimes observe in 
old men. Question them as to the events of early life ; 
and at times, they will be unable to give any answer what- 
ever. But whenever you mention some prominent inci- 
dent of their young days, or perhaps some friend, on whom 
many associations have gathered, it will often be found, 
that their memory revives, and that they are able to state 
many things, in respect to which they were previously silent. 

§. 276. Marks of a good memory. 

The great purpose, to which the faculty of memory i& 
subservient, is, to enable us to retain the knowledge, which 
we have from our experiences, for future use. The marks 
of a good memory, therefore, are these three, viz. Facility 
in receiving ideas, tenacity in retaining them, and readi- 
ness in bringing them forward, on necessary occasions. 

First ; of facility in receiving ideas. We frequent- 
ly find this characteristick of a good memory in persons of 
small education ; and it is not incompatible with a very 
limited genius. For whatever else may be said, it can 
justly be observed, that the abundance of a man's remem- 
brances does not necessarily prove him, either a learned 
man, or of a philosophick turn. Still the trait is a valua- 
ble one, considered in itself. The intellectual habits of 
persons of small education, and the methods, which they 
follow, in retaining their knowledge, have been before par- 
tially explained. It is not, therefore, wonderful, that they 
should exhibit great facility in the reception of ideas of 
remembrance, inasmuch as they deal almost wholly with 
the outside or surface of things, not only seizing upon their 
obvious and obtrusive appearances, but connecting them 
together by the most obvious laws of association. 

Second ; of power of retaining ideas. Memories, 

which have great facility in the reception, are sometimes 
very tenacious of what they h^ve gotten ; but most com- 



OF MEMORY. 331 

monly the latter quality characterizes the memory of a 
different class of people ; — we mean persons of reflection, 
who deal more with principles than facts, except when facts 
are brought forward to confirm and illustrate principles. 

Third ; of readiness in producing what is remember- 
ed. In general those persons, who possess great facili- 
ty in the reception of ideas, are no less ready in calling 
them into service, when occasion offers. It is not com- 
mon to find them at a loss. But, as their thoughts are 
connected together by slight and casual relations, they of- 
ten succeed each other in a disorderly and irregular man- 
ner. For the most part, they are found to have ideas 
enough, and words enough ; but it is not so evident, that 
what they have to say is always suitable to the occasions, 
on which it is produced. These persons, however, often 
give an interest and a variety to common conversation, 
which it is very difficult for minds of a higher order to 
do. The latter class of person^ have reduced the par- 
ticulars of their knowledge to principles ; it is, therefore, 
firmly fixed, and cannot be readily wrested from them ; 
but principles cannot be so easily brought forward on or- 
dinary occasions, nor are they found to be so attractive and 
acceptable with the multitude, as facts. The incidents of 
a murder, when the story is well told, arrest the attention 
of the great mass of people much more strongly, than a 
philosophical dissertation on the nature and aggravation of 
the crime. 

§. 277. Of the advantages of this faculty. 

But whether we have a memory, possessing more or less 
of those marks, which belong to it, as it exists in its high- 
est state of perfection ; it is a faculty always securing to 

us inestimable benefits. As there could not be any 

comparison of our ideas without it, it is, in the first place, 
the foundation of the greatest part of our knowledge ; and 
without its assistance the human mind would necessarily 

be sunk into the lowest form of idiocy. And, secondly, 

the susceptibility of remembrances is not only necessary 
t© us as intpJJectvcfl, but also as moral beings. — 'Without 



33£ OF MEMORY. 

memory we should certainly be incapable of gratitude for 
kindnesses received. We should be incapable of esteem, 
which is founded on a view of a variety of acts and quali- 
ties; aqd be destitute also of many other moral judgments 
and emotions. 

§. 278. Means of improving the memory. 

But if this faculty be so exceedingly important, it be- 
comes us to consider in what way it may be improved. On 
this point the following dirjttions are particularly worthy 
to be fol'c wed. 

(1) We are, in the first place, to make a selection among 

the particulars of our knowledge. It is unwise to try to 

remember every thing. A mem >ry thus loaced may be 
compared to what Milton calls the Fathers, a drag-net, 
which comes floating down to us on the stream of time, 
and bearing articles of m st disproportionate value, shells 
and shell-fish, jewels and pebbles, sticks and straws, sea- 
weeds and mud. It is i np< rtant, therefore, to distinguish 
things aright; and in the mulntu !e of particulars of grea- 
ter and less value, to retain those only, which are of some 
real worth. 

(2) Wi are to refer our hioiule ige, as much as possible, 
to general principles. To refer our knowledge to gener- 
al principles is much the same as to classify it; at least 
this is the best mode of classification. If a lawyer or mer- 
chant were to throw all their papers together promiscuous- 
ly, they could not cal u ate on much readiness in finding 
what they might at any time want. If a man of letters were 
to record in a commonplace book all the ideas and facts, 
which occurred to him, without any method, he would ex- 
perience the greatest difficulty in applying them to use. 
It is the same with a m< mory, where there is no classifica- 
tion. Whoever fixes upon some general principle, wheth- 
er political, literary, or philosophical, and collects facts in 
illustration of it, will find no diificulty in remembering 
them, however numerous ; when without such general prin- 
ciple the recollection of them would have been extremely 
burdensome. 



of memory. 38$ 

(3) Never he satisfied with a partial or half acquaintance 

with things. There is no less a tendency to intellectual, 

than to bodily inactivity ; students, in order to avoid intel- 
lectual toil, are too much inclined to pass on in a hurried 
and careless manner. This is injurious to the memory. 
" Nothing (says Dugald Stewart) has such a tendency to 
weaken, not only the powers of invention, but the intellec- 
tual powers in general, as a habit of extensive and various 
reading without reflection." Always make it a rule fully to 
understand what is gone over. Those, who are determin- 
ed to grapple with the subject in hand, whatever may be 
its nature, and to become master of \% soon feel a great 
interest; truths, which were at first obscure, become clear 
and familiar. The consequence of this increased clear- 
ness and interest is an increase of attention ; and the nat- 
ural result of this is, that the truths are very strongly fixed 
in the memory. A perpetual vacillation between the hon- 
ours and toils of science is a species of " halting between 
two opinions," that is not less injurious in learning, than in 
relig'on. 

(4) The memory may he strengthened by exercise. It is 

found, that all the mental susceptibilities are strengthened 
by exercise, much the same as our bodily powers ; and the 
faculty of memory certainly not less than others. This 
fact, which seems to be an ultimate law of our constitution, 
reminds one of a certain Milo, an inhabitant of Crotona. 
This man is said to have carried an ox on his shoulders ; 
but 1 e couM do it, only by beginning with carrying a calf. 
He practised this every day ; as the animal grew in size^ 
the firmness of his joints and his muscular strength in- 
creased also ; and thus he gradually became able to sup- 
port such an enormous burden. And, in the same way, 
our minds when left to sloth and inactivity, lose all their 
vigour ; but when they are kept in exercise, and, after 
perform ; ng what was before them, are tasked with new re- 
quisitions, it is not easy to assign limits to their ability. 

(5) Consider the nature of the study, and make use of those 
helps, which"are thus afforded. This rule may be illustrat- 



3&4 OF MEMORY. 

ed by the mention of some departments of science. Thus?, 
in acquiring a knowledge of geography, the study is to be 
pursued, as much as possible, with the aid of good globes, 
charts, and maps. It requires a great effort of memory, and 
generally an unsuccessful one, to recollect the relative ex- 
tent and situation of places, the numerous physical and 
political divisions of the earth, from the book. The ad- 
vantages of studying geography with maps, globes, &c. 
are two, (1) — The form, relative situation, and extent of 
countries become, in this case, ideas, or ratHer conceptions 
of sight; such conceptions (§. 187.) are very vivid, and 

are more easily recalled to remembrance, than others. 

(2) Our remembrances are assisted by the law of contiguity 
in place (§. 158), which is known to be one of the most ef- 
ficient aids. When we hive once, from having a map or 
globe before us, formed an acquaintance with the general 
visible appearance of an island, a gulf, an ocean, or a con- 
tinent, nothing is more easy than to remember the subor- 
dinate divisions or parts. Whenever we have examined, 
and fixed in our minds the general appearance or outlines 
of a particular country, we do not easily forget the sit- 
uation of those countries, which are contiguous. 

We find another illustration of this rule in the reading 
of history. There is such a multitude of facts in histor- 
ical writings, that to endeavour to remember them all is 
fruitless; and if it could be done, would be of very small 
advantage. Hence, in reading the history of any country^ 
fix upon two or three of the most interesting epochs ; make 
them the subject of particular attention ; learn the spirit 
of the age, and the private life and fortunes of prominent 
individuals ; in a word, study these periods not only as an- 
nalists, but as philosophers. Vv hen they are thus studied, 
the mind can hardly fail to retain them ; they will be a sort 
of landmarks ; and all the other events in the history of 
the country, before and afterwards, will naturally ar-. 
range themselves in reference to them. The memory will; 
strongly seize the prominent periods, in consequence of the 
great interest felt in them ; and the less important parts of* 



OF MEMOiir. 3«3» 

the history of the country will be likely to be retained, so 
far as is necessary, by aid of the principle of contiguity; 
and without giving them great attention.-^ — -Further, his- 
torical charts or genealogical trees of history are of some as- 
sistance for a similar reason, that maps, globes, &c. are in 
geography. 

This rule for strengthening the memory will apply also 

to the more abstract sciences. " In every science, says 

Stewart, the ideas, about which it is peculiarly conversant, 
are connected together by some particular associating 
principle ; in one science, for instance, by associations 
founded on the relation of cause and effect ; in another, by 
the associations founded on the necessary relations of 
mathematical truths." (Stewart's Philosophy of the Hu- 
man Mind, Chap. VI. Sect. III.) 

<j>. 279. Of committing to writing as a means of impro- 
ving the memory. 

It is often recommended to us to commit to writing the 
knowledge, which we acquire. This practice is unfavoura- 
ble in this respect — it supersedes, in a degree, the neces- 
sity of a direct exercise of the memory. It may be remark- 
ed, in particular, that persons, who follow this method, are 
found to fail in the recollection of detached observations, &, 
of insulated facts. This practice, therefore, promises but 
little benefit to persons, who are much occupied with the 
active business of life, and have but little time for reading 
and reflection ; to whom, consequently, a very ready, as 
well as tenacious memory is of great importance. 

But for others, for persons in some professional busi- 
ness, and for professed scholars, it has some considerable 

advantages ; such as the following. The records, which 

we make of our experiences and thoughts, are a sort of land- 
marks of the progress of our own minds, with which certain- 
ly it is highly desirable to be acquainted. But they not on- 
ly show us what progress our minds have made ; they are 
among the means, by which that advancement itself has 
been secured. 



336 OF MEMORY.' 

In particular, this practice enables one to make im* 
provements on those, who have gone before, or rather aids 
him in so doing. A person, when he has completed his 
education, finds, there is a certain amount of knowledge, 
and that he has learnt what there is to be learnt } but, 
surely, he is not to rest satisfied with this. He must do 
something himself; he is bound in some way to contribute 
to the stock of information, which has been collected. 
Now, when a student is in the practice of noting down 
new facts, and his own original thoughts upon them, he 
not only secures them, but he thus gives to himself the op- 
portunity of making them the further subject of his reflec- 
tions. And having done this, these new results become to 
him a sort of elementary truths ; they are not only one 
step in advance of what is any where to be found in 
books, but, like all new discoveries, they in their turn be- 
come helps in making yet further advancements. Some- 
times great improvements in science have resulted from a 
single remark, or from a slight hint, which was, at the time, 
thought to be of the smallest consequence. 

It cannot be doubted, therefore, that, to a certain ex- 
tent, the noting down of facts, which we observe, the re- 
cording of our own mental deductions, and of important 
ideas in reading, is a practice of very considerable utility 
to those, who have opportunities of mental culture. 

§. 280. Of M nemo nicks or systems of artificial memory. 

By a system of mnemonicks or of artificial memory is 
meant " a method of connecting in the mind things diffi- 
cult to be remembered, with things easily remembered, so 
as to enable it to retain and recollect the former by means 
of the latter." — There have been no less than sixty differ- 
ent authors, who have proposed their plans for this purpose, 
many of them agreeing in the most important respects, but 
all of them differing in some. 

Among the most used of these is Gray's memorta technica. 
It contains a great deal of historical, chronological and 
geographical knowledge, embraced in a set of rules, which 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 337 

the student is required to make as familiar to himself, as 
school-boys do the rules of grammar. Some alterations are 
made on the final syllables of words, so as to make them 
significant of dates or other important particulars. There 
have been various opinions in respect to this system ; but 
the prevailing feeling seems to be against it. 

Among the most popular writers on the subject of 
Mnemonicks, who have recently appeared, is M. Gregor 
von Feinagle ; but a statement of the principles of his sys- 
tem would occupy too large a space in this book. Nor, 
after bestowing some reflection on the subject, can we 

consider the omission a very serious disadvantage. It 

is, no doubt, possible to aid the memory by arbitrary 
arrangements and by associating our ideas with a set of 
places and images; and such assistances may,at some times, 
be of considerable advantage to publick speakers, and in 
general to all persons, who may have occasion to remem- 
ber a large number of insulated facts. But, notwithstand- 
ing, it may be said of the systems now in use, as a gener- 
al remark, that they are too complicated for plans, which 
profess to render the acquisition of knowledge more easy. 
They can never be adopted into general use, unless they 
are rendered more simple ; nor do we apprehend, that a 
person, who follows the rules for strengthening and applying 
the memory above laid down, will stand greatly in need of 
any other helps in recollecting most things, that will be 
found to be useful and important. 



CHAPTER TWENTY THIRD. 



EMOTIONS OP BUAUTY. 



§. 281. Explanation of emotions of beauty. 

There is a class of our mental feelings, to which we com- 
monly give the name of emotions. We speak of a melan- 
choly emotion, of a cheerful emotion, of emotions of pity, 
of wonder, and the like. Among other emotions are those 
43 



333 EMOTION OF BEAUff.- 

of beauty and sublimity. In the present chapter, our 

attention will be particularly directed to those of beauty. 
Of emotions of beauty it is hardly less difficult to give 
a definition, than to define the sensations of colour, or of 
taste. We find in then, however, these marks or charac- 
teristicks. (1) The emotion of be nty is always a pleas- 
ing one. We never give the name to one, which is pain- 
ful, or to any fee'ing of disgust. Wh mc ver, therefore, we 
speak of an emotion of beat/, we imp! , in th 3 u o ( f the 
terms, some degree of satisfaction < r pleasure! All per- 
sons, the illiterate as well as the soi< ntifick, use the phrase 

with this import. (2) We never speak of emotions of 

beauty, to whatever degree may be our experience of in- 
ward satisfaction, without referring such emotions to some- 
thing external. The same emotion, which is called satis- 
faction or delight of mind, when it is wholly and exclusive- 
ly internal, we find to be termed an emotion of beauty, if 
we are able to refer it to something without, and to spread 
its charms around any external object. l^See §• 19.) 

§. 282. Of what is meant by beautiful objects. 

There are a great variety of mater. al objects, which ex- 
cite the emotion of beauty ; — that is, when tr»e objects ar^ 
presented, this emotion, in a greater or less degree, (for the 
emoti >n itself is susceptible >f many v ireties,) immediate- 
ly exists.— As to the existence of n aterial objects, it is un- 
necessary to dispute. We take it for granted ; although if 
we were called up^n for a definition of them, we could only 
say, that they are mere assemblages of particles,and that the 
different arrangements of those particles constitutes the 
difference between one cbjact and another. The ashes, 
that are mouldering in the tomb, do not differ from the living 
form of man u the m terials, but only in disposition, and 
in symmetry. In themselves considered, therefore, all 
bodies of matter are without beauty ; the fairest creations 
of architecture, and the dust, on which they are erected, 
are alike 5 all are originally destitute of that interest, which 
v/e denominate beaory. 



EMOTIONS O? BEAUTr, 33$ 

The beauty of objects being something not in the na- 
ture of the things themselves, although we constantly speak 
of them, as possessing that quality, it is necessary to enter 

into some explanation. Whenever certain objects are 

presented to us, there is a feeling of pleasure, in a higher 
or less degree. This feeling, which is termed an emotion 
of beauty, does not exist, it will readily be admitted, in the 
object, which cannot be supposed to be susceptible of it, 
but in the mind. And here we have the solution of the 
point, on which we are remarking. We have from ear- 
liest childhood been in the habit of referring this mental 
emotion, of which no inanimate object can possibly be 
susceptible, tr» external objects, as its antecedent. We 
have made this reference, for so long a time, and so fre- 
quently, that at last, in consequence of a very tenacious 
association, the object itself seems to us to be invested 
with delight, and to beam out with a sort of intellectual 
radiance ; that is, to have qualities, which can truly and 
properly exist only in the mind. Such objects are termed 

by US BEAUTIFUL OBJKCTS. 

The result of this strong and early disposition, to refer 
the emotions within us to those external objects, which 
are the antecedents to thorn, is, that all material creation 
is clothed over again. There is a beauty in the sun ; there 
is a beauty in woods and waters ; and blossorr, and flower, 
and fruit are all invested with the same transferred or asso- 
ciated splendour. But annul the emotions of the mind, 
which throws back its own inward light on the objects 
around it ; and the sun will become dark, and the moon 
will withheld its s'jiung, and the flower will be no more 
delightful, than tie Loi, from whose mouldering bosom it 
springs up. 

§. 283. Extensive application of the term beauty. 

Emotions of 1 eauty are felt, and perhaps in a higher 
deg'^e lhan any where eke, in the contemplation of objects 
of sight, cf woods, waters, a:ure skies, cultivated fields, 
and particularly of the human form. But they are not lim- 
ited to vhes ; emotions, which not only bear the sam? 



?AQ EMOTIONS OF BEALTY. 

name, but are analogous in kind, exist also on the contem- 
plation of many other things. 

The sense or feeling of beauty exists, when we are 
following out a happy train of reasoning ; and, hence, the 
mathematician, who certainly has a delightful sensation, 
analogous to what we experience in contemplating many 

works of nature, speaks of a beautiful theorem. The 

connoisseur in musick applies the term, beautiful, to a fa- 
vourite air ; the lover of poetry speaks of a beautiful song j 
and the painter discovers beauty in the design and in the 
colouring of his pictures. We apply the term, beauty, fy> 
experiments in the different departments of physicks; es- 
pecially when the experiment is simple, and results in de- 
ciding a point, which has occasioned doubt and dispute. — - 
Also, in the contemplation of moral actions, we find the 
same feelings. The approbation, which we yield, when 
the poor are relieved, and the weak are defended, and any 
other deeds of virtue are done, is not merely the cold aj- 
sent of the head, but is always attended with a delightful 

movement of the affections. Set that all nature, taking 

the word in a wide sense, is the province of beauty ; the 
intellectual, and the moral, as well as the material world. 
But a remark is to be made here of some consequence, 
in connection with some of the numerous speculations, 
that have been at different times offered on the subject 
of beauty. It has been thought by some, that the applica- 
tion of the term to any other objects than those of external 

nature, is wholly metaphorical. In reply it may be said, 

that we do truly feel a delightful emotion on the contem- 
plation of intellectual works, and when we observe virtu- 
ous actions, no less than when our attention is fixed upon 
the pleasing appearances of the natural world. And there 
is such an analogy, such a resemblance in the feelings in 
all these cases, that, if the term, beauty, be proper to ex- 
press one, it is no less appropriate to all. Instead, there- 
fore, of considering this term as metaphorical, whenever 
applied to any thing other than the external appearances 
ef nature, it is better to speak of it, as a common name, ex- 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. $41 

pressive of a variety of emotions, arising on different occa- 
sions, but always pleasing, and varying rather in the occa- 
sions of their origin and in degree, than in their real na- 
ture. In particular, they agree in their nature as to 

this ; — we refer all the emotions, which come under the 
denomination of beauty, to the objects, whatever they may 
be, which are found immediately and constantly to pre- 
cede them. The charm of the mind, which exists solely 
in ourselves, seems to flow out and to spread itself over 
the severest labours of intellect, over the creations of the 
architect, over the fictions of the imagination, over virtu- 
ous moral actions, and whatever else we call beautiful, no 
less than upon those forms of material nature, which fill us 
with delight. 

" Mind, mind alone — Bear witness, earth and heaven ! 
11 The living fountain, in itself contains 
" Of beauteous and sublime ! 

§. 284. All objects not equally fitted to excite emotions 
of beauty. 

In view of what has been said, beauty may be defined 
a pleasing emotion, excited by various objects, but which, 
in consequence of an early and tenacious association, is 
always felt by us, as if diffused over, and existent in the ob- 
jects, which excite it. An object, therefore, is called beau- 
tiful, when it is the c use or invariable antecedent of the 
emotion of beauty. But no one can be ignorant, that not 
all objects cause the emotion, and of those, which do, 
some have this power in a greater, and some in a less de- 
gree. This brings us to a very important inquiry. It is 
no unreasonable curiosity, which wishes to know, why the 
effect is so limited, and why all objects are not embraced 
in it 9 Why different objects cause the same emotion in 
different degrees ? And why the same objects produce a 
diversity of emotions in different individuals, and even in 
the same individual at different times f 



M£ EMOTION'S OF B£AUTT. 

§. 285. A susceptibility of emotions of beauty an ult%* 
male principle of our constitution. 

In answering these questions, something must be taken 
for granted, there must be some starting point ; otherwise 
all, that can be said, will be involved in inextricable con* 
fusion. That is, we must take for granted, that the mind has 
an original susceptibility of such emotions. Nor can we 
suppose, there can be any objection to a concession, which 
is warr anted by the most general experience. We all 
know, that we are created with this susceptibility, because 
we are all conscious of having had those emotions, which 
are attributed to it. We may, therefore, repeat here a remark 
made at §. 19. — No reason whatever can be given, why 
any combination of objects or of actions, why any exhibi- 
tion of purpose or of power, causes a new state of mind, ojf 
that class termed emotions, an more than actions and ob- 
jects, purposes and powers utterly unknown to us, except it 
be this, that a susceptibility oi emotions is one of the con- 
stituent and original charact.risixks of the inkLeUual 
principle. 

These remarks hive considerable importance, in con- 
nection with the views of those, who resolve all em> tions of 

beauty into association. Those, who resolve the whole 

effect of beautiful objects into association, commit that 
sort of sophism, which logicians call reasonins in a circle. 
When we speak of association in reference to objects and 
emotions of oeauty. the province, which we assign to it, is, 
to impart to one thing the agreeable or disagreeable ef- 
fects of another. This power it posses eg; but then 
association of itself can never account for the origin of a 
class of pleasures, different from all the others, of whjch 
we have any experience. If there were nothing originally 
and intrinsically beautiful, that is, if it were not so ordered 
by nature, th it the mind should be filled with delightful feel- 
ings, whenever certain objects were presented to it, the as- 
sociating principle, having no materials, on which it could 
operate, could not exist. Accordingly Mr. Alison himself, 
who attributes so much to association, is so sensible of this, 



EMOTIONS OF JBEAUTT. 34$ 

that he does not deny, that the mind, in consequence of its 
adaptation to objects around it, and of the objects to the 
mind, is by is very constitution susceptible of pleasing, 
and de'ig tfu , a d sublime emotions, independently of the 
influence of custom and habit. 

Admitting, therefore, that emotions of beauty are mod- 
ified by circumstances, find that, consequently, very much 
may justly be attributed to asscciation, it will, nevertheless, 
hold true, that certain objects can never be presented to 
the mind, and the mind be unmoved; in other words, 
emotions of beauty will necessarily exist, whenever certain 

objects are before the mind, until its laws are altered. • 

We proceed, then, to inquire, What o'.j cts, whether bo- 
dies of matter, sounds, colours, or whatever causes the emo- 
tion in question, are intrinsically beautiful ; — That is to say, 
we inquire what objects produce, or ere antecedent to emo- 
tions oi" beau ty of thumsJves, inJe-:endtntly of cusUm or 
association. 

§. 236. Remarks on the beauty of forms* 

In making that sel ctian of tho^e objects, which we sup* 
pose to be fitted, in the original constitution of things, to 
cause within us pleasing emotions, independently of the aid 
of association, we ca met profess to speak with certainty. 
T he appeal is t > tie g^.eral ex; erience of men ; and all 
we can do, is, t"> give, s ) fur as it seems to have been as- 
certained, the results of that experience* Beginn ng, 
theiefore, with material objects, we are justified by gener- 
al experience in saying, that certain dispositions or forms 
of matter aid beaui.fui ;— -for instance, the circle. 

We rarely look upon a win I ng or serpentine form, 
without experiencing a feeling of pleasure ; and on seeing 
a circle, this pleasure is heightened. Hence Hogarth in his 
Analysis of Beavty, expressly lays it down, that those lines, 
which have most variety in themselves, contribute most 
towards the production of beauty, and that the most beau- 
tiful line, by which a surface can be bounded, is the waving 
or serpentine, or that which constantly, but imperceptibly 
deviates from the straight line. This, which we frequently 



344 EMOTIONS Otf BEAUT?. 

find in shells, flowers, and other pleasing natural produc- 
tions, he calls the line of beauty. Now, we admit, that the 
circle, and all winding forms may have more or less of beau- 
ty in consequence of associated qualities ; no doubt, the 
greater part of their beauty may be attributed to this cause; 
still there is very great reason to believe, that a pleasing 
emotion, although it may be in general a slight one, is ex- 
cited by these forms, independently of any association 
whatever. 

For the same reasons, we are to suppose, that a square 
figure has intrinsically some beauty, although less than the 
circle. What the cause of the diffeience is, it is somewhat 
difficult to say, unless it be, that a circle being more sim- 
ple, makes a more direct and entire impression ; whereas 
the attention is divided among the sides and angles of a 
square. 

§. 2S7. Of the original beauty of colours. 

We experience what may be termed an original emo- 
tion, which is pleasing, in beholding colours. This is ob- 
served in all children ; and sometimes when the objects 
are brilliant, and the colours are various, the emotion of 
pleasure is intense. It is found to be the same universally 
among savages ; and also, but in a less degree, among the 
uneducated classes in civilized communities. In persons 
of refinement, the original tendency to receive pleasing 
emotions from the contemplation of brilliant colours seems 
to have, in a measure, lost its power, in consequence of the 
developement of tendencies, to receive pleasure from oth- 
er causes. (See, in connection with this section, Trans- 
actions of Royal Society of Edin. P. I. Vol. VII. p. 7.) 

§. 288. Of emotions of beauty from sounds. 

There are feelings arising on other occasions, to which 
we apply the phrase, emotions of beauty, which favour 
the supposition, that the mind is so constituted, as to be 
naturally and originally susceptible of receiving from some 
objects that pleasure, which is a constituent part of what- 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 345 

•ever is termed beautifbl. We refer to the emotions, pro- 
duced on hearing sounds. It is true, that, in different 

nations, we find different casts or styles of musick ; but, 
notwithstanding this, certain successions of sounds, viz. 
those, which have certain mathematical proportions in 
their times of vibration, are alone pleasing. As, therefore, 
not all series of sounds are beautiful, but only those 
of a particular character, and these are every where found 
to excite emotions of beauty without exception ; the pre- 
sumption is, that beauty, in other cases, is not wholly con- 
tingent, but is partly original, although the greater por- 
tion may arise from the principles of association. 

§. 289. Of motion as an element of beauty. 

Motion has sometimes been reckoned as an element 
of beauty ; but not every kind of motion. The motion of a 
winding river gives us pleasure, and also of a ship at sea. 
We look on, and are pleased without being able to control 
our feelings, or to tell, why they exist. With what pleasing 
satisfaction, we gaze upon a column of smoke, ascending 
from a cottage in a wood ! And what a feeling of pleasure 
arises on beholding a horse, that is freed from the subjec- 
tion of the bit, moving at full speed over a plain ! It 

may be said, we are aware, that the pleasure arising from 
beholding the ascending smoke of the cottage, is caused 
by the favourite suggestions, which are connected with it, of 
rural seclusion, peace, and abundance. But the pleasure 
would be essentially the same, if it were known to as- 
cend from the uncomfortable wigwam of the savage, or the 
fires of a wandering horde of gypsies. 

But there are some kinds of motion, for instance, when- 
ever it is accelerated beyond a certain degree of swiftness, 
which cannot be said to be beautiful, but which, on the 
contrary, cause painful feelings. 

§. 290. Of the beauty of certain natural signs. 

There are certain signs, expressive of feelings and of 

character, with which nature has furnished us. There is 
44 



2 40 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 

some reason to believe, that these signs may excite emo- 
tions, and may possess their appropriate meaning, indepen- 
dently of experience. They cannot, indeed, all of them be 
said to be beautiful ; for instance, the frown, which is indi- 
cative of reproof and of the angry passions. But the smiling 
countenance gives pleasure, not only to persons grown up, 
but to the infant in the cradle ; and, therefore, seems not 
only to have been furnished, but to have been appointed by 
nature as the sign of placid or of joyful emotions, and not 
less fitted to excite corresponding emotions in others. The 
emotion of pleasure, which the infant exhibits, on seeing a 
smiling countenance, cannot, with any degree of probabili- 
ty, be ascribed to experience. A supposition of that kind, 
to say the least, can never admit of such positive evidence, 
as to entitle it to much weight. And when in connec- 
tion with its improbability, we consider, that associated feel- 
ings themselves, to which so much is justly attributed, can- 
not exist, without something, with which to begin, and on 
which to fasten, it can hardly be regarded, as unphilosophi- 
cal, to ascribe the feelings, of which w T e are now speaking 
to something original and permanent in our constitution. 

§. 291. Of the beauty of moral actions. 

The views, which have been taken, will be found to 
hold good of those pleasurable emotions, which arise, 
whenever we contemplate moral actions of a praiseworthy 
kind. If those theories, which deny an original suscepti- 
bility of moral emotions, and make all our moral judg- 
ments the result of experience and some sort of calculation, 
were true ; then we might expect to find the perception of 
moral beauty perfect in mature age, but hardly having an 
existence in youth and childhood. But this is not the fact. 
The child, that successively exults and weeps at the nar- 
rations of the ballad, has something within him, which 
most decisively pronounces upon the character of those 
actions, which he is thus made acquainted with. He 
sympathizes with those, who are in suffering ; he admires 
flic virtuous; he abhors the unprincipled and the villain. 



EMOTIONS OF BEAC'IT. ?A 7 

His moral susceptibility, to say the least, is equally quick 
with that of persons grown up in all cases, except in those 
instances, where he is not so well able, as persons of ma- 
ture minds, to see the full consequences of actions. 

$. 292. Of a distinct sense or faculty of beauty. 

From the views, which have been taken, it might be 
Conjectured, that we adopt the opinion of those, who have 
held, that there is a distinct sense or faculty of beauty. 
There have been some writers, among whom Mr. Alison has 
included Hogarth and Winkelman, who have supposed, 
that all emotions of beauty and sublimity are to be refer- 
red to a distinct sense ; and, consequently, that all quali- 
ties, which are in general antecedent to those emotians, 
are the established and appropriate objects of that suppo- 
sed sense. By means of this sense or faculty of beauty, 
which seems to have been regarded as entirely analogous 
to the external senses of sight and feeling, the mind expe- 
riences the emotion of beauty constantly, or almost con- 
stantly, whenever a particular object is present. That is, 
•having this supposed sense, we can no more be without 
the appropriate emotion, whenever the beautiful object is 
presented, than we can be without sight or feeling, 
when our eyes are open, to behold objects, or when our 
hands are impressed upon them. And, moreover, the 
beauty, which is thus discovered, has, according to this 
system, a precise and definite character, concerning which 
there cannot ordinarily be any possible mistake. 

There are some parts, undoubtedly, of this doctrine of 
emotions of beauty, to which it is, by no means, necessary 
to object. Its advocates hold, with good reason, that cer- 
tain objects give us pleasure of themselves ; and also that 
the emotions arise in the mind at once, whenever the ob- 
jects are presented to it, and, therefore, much the same, as 
when vision follows the opening of the eyelids. But here, 
it cannot be denied, that the analogy between the suscep- 
tibility of emotions of beauty, and the external senses, 
ceases. 



24'i EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 

The opinion, that we have a distinct sense or faculty 
of beauty, would give to its appropriate emotions a char- 
acter more exact and particular, than is justified by what is 
known to be the face ; there would in this case be no more 
difference of opinion concerning the beauty and deformity 
of objects, than concerning thtir sensible qualities, their 
taste, sound, or colour. If this doctrine, taken in its full 
extent, were true, the peasant, who can tell, whether the 
taste of the apple be sweet or sour, and whether the col- 
our of the clouds of heaven be bright or dark, can sit in 
judgment on the beauty of the works of nature and art, no 

less than persons of the most critical taste. While, 

therefore, we cont< nd, that there is in the mind an original 
susceptibility of emotions of beauty, it is to be regarded 
as something quite different in its nature from the external 
senses ; and these emotions, therefore, unlike our sensa- 
tions, will differ, in kind and degree, with a variety of cir- 
cumstances. 

§. 293. Obj( cts may become beautiful by association 
merely. 

While some of thp f rms, of which matter is suscepti- 
ble, are pleasing of themselves and originally, while we are 
unable to behold bright colours, and to listen to certain 
sounds, and to gaze upon particular expressions of the 
countenance, and to behold praiseworthy actions, without 
emotions, in a greater or less degree, delightful ; it must be 
admitted, that, in the course of our experience, we find a va- 
riety of objects, that seem, as they are presented to us to be 
unattended with any emotion ; objects, that are perfectly 
indifferent. And yet these objects, however wanting in 
beauty to the great mass of men, are found to be invested, 
in the minds of some, with a charm, allowedly not their own. 

These objects, which previously excited no feelings of 
beauty, may become beautiful to us in consequence of the 
associations, which we attach to them. That is to say, 
when the objects are beheld, certain former pleasing feel- 
ings, peculiar to ourselves, are recalled. 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY, 349 

The lustre of a spring morning, the radiance of a sum- 
mer evening may of themselves excite in us, a pleasing 
emotion ; but, as our busy imagination, taking advantage 
of the images of delight, which are before us, is ever at 
work and constantly forming new images, there is, in com- 
bination with the original emotion of beauty, a superadded 
delight. And if in these instances, only a part of the beau- 
ty is to be ascribed to association, there are some oth- 
ers, where the whole is to be considered, as derived from 
that source. 

Numerous instances can be given of the power of as- 
sociation, not only in heightening the actual charms of ob- 
jects, but in spreading a sort of delegated lustre around 
those, that were entirely uninteresting before. Why 
does yon decaying house appear beautiful to me, which 
is indifferent to another — And why are the desolate fields 
around it clothed with delight, while others see in them 
nothing, that is pleasant ? It is, because that house 
formerly 'detained me, as one of its inmates, at its fire- 
side, and those fields were the scenes of many youthful 
sports. When I now behold them, after so long a time, 
the joyous emotions, which the remembrances of my ear- 
ly days call up within me, are, by the power of association, 
thrown around those objects, which are the cause of the 
remembrances, 

§. 294. Further illustrations of associated feelings. 

He, who travels through a well-cultivated country 
town, cannot but be pleased with the various objects, 
which he beholds ; the neat and comfortable dwellings ; 
the meadows, that are peopled with flocks, and with herds 
of cattle ; the fields of grain, intermingled with reaches of 
thick and dark forest. The whole scene is a beautiful 
one ; the emotion we suppose to be partly original ; a per- 
son, on being restored to sight by couching for the cataract, 
and having had no opportunity to form associations with it, 
would witness it, for the first time, with delight. But a 
greater part of the pleasure is owing to the associated feel- 



B50 AMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 

ings, which arise, on beholding such a scene ; these dwell- 
ings are the abode of man ; these fields are the place of 
his labours, and amply reward him for his toil ; here are 
contentment, the interchange of heartfelt joys, and "an- 
cient truth." 

Those, who have travelled over places, that have been 
signalized by memorable events, will not suspect us of at- 
tributing two great a share of our emotions to association. 
It is true, that in a country so new as America, we are una- 
ble to point so frequently, as an European might do, to 
places, that have witnessed the gallantry and patriotism of 
ancient times. But there are some such consecrated 
spots. With whatever emotions the traveller may pass 
up the banks of the Hudson, he cannot but find his feel- 
ings much more deeply arrested at Stillwater and at 
Saratoga, the scenes of the memorable battles of Sept. 
19, and Oct. 7, 1777, and of the surrender of Burgoyne, than 
at any other place. It was there, that brave men died ; it 
was there, that an infant people threw defiance at a power- 
ful enemy, and gave sanguinary proof of their determination 
to be free. A thousand recollections have gathered upon 
such places, and the heart overflows witji feeling at behold- 
ing them. 

The powerful feeling, which here exists, whether we call 
it an emotion of beauty, or sublimity, or give it a name, 
expressive of some intermediate grade, is essentially the 
same, with that, which is caused in the bosom of the trav- 
eller, when he looks for the first time upon the hills of the 
city of Rome. There are other cities of greater extent, 
and washed by nobler rivers, than the one, which is before 
him ; but upon no others has he ever gazed with such in- 
tensity of feeling. He beholds what was once the mistress 
of the world ; he looks upon the ancient dwelling place of 
Brutus, of Cicero, and of the Cassars. The imagination is at 
once peopled with whatever was noble in the character, 
and great in the achievements of that extraordinary nation; 
and there is a strength, a fulness of emotion, which, with- 
out these stirring remembrances, would be very sensibly 
diminished. 



EMOTIONS ©F BEAEfTT. 351 

§• 295. Instances of national associations* 

The influence of association in rousing up, and in giving 
strength to particular classes of emotions, may be striking- 
ly seen in some national instances. Every country has 

its favourite tunes. These excite a much stronger feel- 
ing in the native inhabitants, than in strangers. The ef- 
fect on the Swiss soldiers of the Ranz des Teaches, their na- 
tional air, whenever they have happened to hear it in 
foreign lands, has often been mentioned. So great was 
this effect, that it was found necessary in France to forbid its 
being played in the Swiss corps in the employ of the French 
government. The powerful effect of this song cannot be 
supposed to be owing to any peculiar merits in the compo- 
sition ; but to the pleasing recollections, which it ever viv- 
idly brings up in the minds of the Swiss, of mountain life, of 
freedom, and domestick pleasures. 

The English have a popular tune, called Belleisle 
March. Its popularity is said to have been owing to the 
circumstance, that it was played when the English army 
marched into Belleisle, and to its consequent association 
with remembrances of war and of conquest. And it will 
be found true of all national airs, that they have a charm 
for the natives of the country, in consequence of the recol- 
lections connected with them, which they do not possess 
for the inhabitants of other countries. 

We have abundant illustrations of the same fact in re- 
spect to colours. The purple colour has acquired an ex- 
pression or character of dignity, in consequence of having 
been the common colour of the dress of kings ; among the 
Chinese, however, yellow is the most dignified colour, and 
evidently for no other reason, than because yellow is that, 
which is allotted to the royal family. In many countries, 
black is expressive of gravity, and is used particularly in 
seasons of distress and mourning ; and white is a cheerful 
colour. But among the Chinese ¥/hite is gloomy, because 
it is the dress of mourners ; and in Spain and among the 
Venetians black has a cheerful expression, in consequence of 
being worn by the great. So that the remark of Sir Joshua 



352 EMOTIONS 01* BEAUTY. 

Reynolds has some foundation, that custom makes, in a 

certain sense, white black, and black white. "It is 

custom alone, (says he,) determines our preference of the 
colour of the Europeans to the Ethiopians, and they, for 
the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours. I sup- 
pose no body will doubt, if one of their painters were to 
paint the goddess of beauty, but that he would represent 
her black, with thick lips, flat nose, and wooly hair ; and 
it seems to me, he would act very unnaturally, if he did 
not." (The Idler, No. 82.) 

$. 296. Of utility as an element of beauty. 

Some theorists, among others Mr. Hume, have imagined* 
that they were able to discover the origin or foundation of 
all emotions of beauty in the perception of utility; under- 
standing by the term a fitness or adaptation of the beautiful 
objects to some important purpose. We certainly contem- 
plate this quality with a degree of complacency and ap- 
probation. Many objects, when their use or adaptation to 
some purpose became known to us, have at once been 
clothed with an interest, which they did not before pos- 
sess. A share, therefore, of our emotions of beauty may be 
traced to this source. But when the perception of utility 
or fitness is proposed, as the ground and origin of all of 
them, the doctrine evidently cannot be sustained. If this 
principle hold universally, it is considered a fair inference 
from it by Mr. Burke, that the wedge-like snout of the 
swine, with its tough cartilage at the end, and the general 
make of its head, so well adapted to digging aud rooting, 
are extremely beautiful ; and that hedge-hogs and porcu- 
pines, which are so admirably secured against all assaults 
by their prickly hides, can justly be considered creatures 
of no small elegance. 

On the theory, therefore, which proposes the perception 
of utility, as the true ground of all emotions of beauty, it 
is enough for us to say, that it goes too far; — it does, in- 
deed, in connection with the laws of association, suggest a 
happy explanation of many pleasing emotions, but, by no 



EMOTIONS OF BEAU1T. 853 

means, of all. The inferences of Burke in opposition to it 
are not without foundation. (See Burke on the Sublime 
and Beautiful, P. III. Sect. 6.) 

§. 297. Of proportion as a cause or element of beauty. 

There are some, who imagine, they find the source of 
beauty in a certain symmetry and determinate proportion 
of parts. This idea has been particularly advocated by 
artists, who seem to have supposed, that the elements of 
beauty might not only be discovered, but even measured 
in the great models of statuary and painting. Mr. Burke 
has examined this opinion also ; directing his inquiries to 
vegetables, the inferior animals, and man. He has shown, 
that, in all these cases, there are no certain measures, on 

which the beautiful can justly be said to depend. For 

instance, in the vegetable creation we find nothing more 
beautiful than flowers, but there is a very great variety in 
their shape, and in the dispositior of the parts, which per- 
tain to them. In the rose the stalk is slender, but the 
flower is large. The flower or blossom of the apple, on 
the other hand, is very small, but the tree large. Now if 
one of these be in proportion, the other wants it ; and yet, 
by general consent, both the rose and the apple-blossom 
possess beauty, and the bush of the one and the tree of 
the other allowedly present a very engaging appear- 
ance. If again we inquire in respect to man, or the in- 
ferior animal creation, we are brought to the same result, 
viz. that beauty does not depend upon a fixed relative size 

of the parts, that is, upon proportion. Those, who deem 

it important to amuse themselves with every thing, that 
has been advanced on the subject, and find time for such 
minuteness of inquiry, may meet with various other the- 
ories of more or less value, and probably none of them, 
however unphilosophical, without some worth. 

§. 298. Differences of original susceptibility of this 

emotion. 
Supposing it to be true, that we possess an original 
susceptibility of emotions of beauty, independently of 
45 



354 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 

custom, and of considerations of utility and proportion, it 
seems, however, to be the fact, that this susceptibility is 
found existing in different degrees in different persons. 
Let the same beautiful objects be presented to two per- 
sons, and one will be found to be not only affected, but 
ravished, as it were, with feelings of beauty; while the 
other will have the same kind of emotions, but in a very 

diminished degree. A great degree of susceptibility of 

emotions of beauty is usually termed sENsiBrLiTY. The 

differences of men in this respect may justly be thought, 
where we cannot account for it by any thing in their edu- 
cation or mental culture, to be constitutional. Nor is it 
more strange, that men should be differently affected by 
the same beautiful objects in consequence of some differ- 
ence of constitution, than that they should constitutionally 
have different passions, that one should be cholerick, an- 
other of a peaceable turn, that one should be mild and 
yielding, another inflexible. 

§. 299. Generalizations of emotions of beauty. 

It is a well founded opinion, and worthy of some con- 
sideration, that there may be a species of generalization 
of our emotions, as well as of our other intellectual states ; 
there may be classes of feelings, as well as classes of per- 
ceptions, or of objects. The ordinary process of gener- 
alizing, which precedes the giving of common names, has 
already been explained. A general or common name is 
one, which is employed as expressive of a general notion 
or feeling of resemblance, existing in a number of partic- 
ulars ; thus, horse, quadruped, animal, peace, pleasure, 
happiness, are names of this kind. In all languages, there 
are many general terms ; but they are much less in 
number, than the states of mind, which are general. For 
instance, we apply the word, happiness, to many states of 
mind, in which there would be found, if we were to make 
them the subjects of particular examination, no small dif- 
ference in the degree of the delightful emotion. And, 
consequently, one general name is given to feelings, which 
might be arranged as different classes or species. 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 355 

We have notions of various degrees of beauty, as well 
as of happiness ; but, although these notions, (that is to 
say, different degrees of beauty, which are fully ascertain- 
ed and settled upon,) are truly mental generalizations, we 
fail, in both cases, in having appropriate names for all of 
them. The word, beauty, is made to stand, therefore, in 
consequence of the imperfection of language for a number 
of different degrees of delightful emotion ; that is, for va- 
rious feelings, which might be separated into species; and, 
therefore, be entitled to general names. As we have no 
names, allotted to many of these classes or generalizations 
of emotions, we cannot, as we are able to in other cases, call 
up the emotions, by merely seeing or hearing the name. 
But, although we do not have them embodied in words, 
we find, that they are capable of being suggested by par- 
ticular objects, as if they were so embodied ; and that thus, 
the objects, by which they are so suggested, are made to 
answer, in some measure, the place of language. 

§. 300. Manner of forming such generalizations, &c. 

We form our general notions of the beautiful in the 
same way as we form other general ideas, to which we al- 
luded in the preceding section, viz. by the observation and 
comparison of many particulars. The emotions, therefore, 
will arise in the mind on all occasions, when the particu- 
lars, observed at the present moment, correspond with the 
particulars, which have been before observed. 

It is one excellence of these generalized emotions, that 
being formed on the experience of many, and corrected 
by such general experience, they possess an uniformity and 
permanency, which could not be expected in those, which 
are formed from the experiences of an individual merely. 

And, hence, the person, who has furnished his mind 
with them, is capable of anticipating and predicting much 
more than any others, what objects will arouse emotions 
of beauty in the great mass of people ; — and his anticipa- 
tions and foresight will be the more correct, in proportion 
as his inductions have been more wide and careful. 



35G EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY, 

But then it is not to be inferred, that these general no- 
tions are all, that is present to the' mind, when beautiful 
objects are before it. In general, the imagination is at 
such times much quickened ; trains of distinct images can 
hardly fail to be called up ; these images are accompanied 
with lively emotions ; and, in this way, the emotion of 
beauty, which we feel as particularly appropriate to any 
object, may be either very much strengthened, or very 
much diminished by the incorporation with it of feelings 

from various other sources. The feelings of beauty, 

which we have from this last source, are comparatively 
slow in arising, and are constantly varying ; whereas the 
suggestion of any generalized emotions of beauty is com- 
monly instantaneous ; and they are also of a more perma- 
nent character. 

§. 301. Emotions of 'beauty compared with others. 

We stop here to notice one of the objections, which 
may occur to these views of this subject. Supposing, as 
we do, that the mind has originally certain tendencies to 
emotions of beauty, we admit the power of various circum- 
stances in modifying, and, in some cases, of overcoming 
such original tendencies. Nor in point of fact, can it be 
denied, that the character of our feelings of beauty fre- 
quently changes ; that is, what is regarded by us, as beau^ 
tiful at one time, is not at another ; what is beautiful in 
the eyes of one age or of one nation, loses its lustre in the 

view of another. The objection is, that such changes of 

feeling in regard to the beautiful are inconsistent with an 

original susceptibility of such emotions. The answer to 

be given is, that we experience analogous variations in all 
our emotions of whatever kind, as well as those of beauty. 

Take, for instance, that feeling by which we are led 

to regard any thing as true or false. It will surely be ad- 
mitted, that there is in the mind an original tendency to 
assent to certain propositions, rather than others of an op- 
posite kind. It cannot be supposed, that the characteris- 
tick of mind, which leads us to regard one thing as true, and 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 357 

another as false, is something, which is wholly superindu- 
ced, — the result merely of accidental circumstances.- — — 
And yet it is well known, that our views of subjects contin- 
ually alter ; those objects, which appeared just, and wor- 
thy, and desirable in youth, have a different appearance 
in manhood, and again have a different aspect in old age. 
And the fluctuations of opinion, which are found in indi- 
viduals, may also be clearly traced in the moral, political, 

and religious history of different ages and nations. We 

find the same tendency to perpetual fluctuations in all our 
emotions, in the feelings of cheerfulness and melancholy, 
of desire and aversion, of love and hatred, &c. 

§. 302. Summary of views in regard to the beautiful. 

As the subject of emotions of beauty is one of no small 
difficulty, it may be of advantage to give here a brief sum- 
mary of some of the prominent views in respect to it. 

(1) Of emotions of beauty it is difficult to give a definition, 
but we notice in them two marks or characteristicks ; — 
They imply, 1st, a degree of pleasure, and 2dly, are always 

referred by us to the external object. (2) No objects are 

beautiful of themselves, and independently of the soul, 
which contemplates them ; but appear to have a degree of 
splendour or beauty in consequence of our having associa- 
ted with them, constantly, and from a very early period, 
the feelings, which exist in our own minds. 

(3) The feeling, which we term an emotion of beauty, 
is not limited to natural scenery, but may be caused by 
works of art, by creations of the imagination, by the sever- 
est efforts of reasoning, and by moral actions. On all 
these the mind may reflect back the lustre of its own emo- 
tions, and make them beam out with a sort of splendour, 
which is not originally in the objects ; and this is done in the 
same manner, as when we diffuse our sensations of colour, 
which are merely affections of the mind, over the objects, 

which we call red, white, yellow, &c. (4) There is in 

the mind an original susceptibility of emotions in general, 



358 EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 

and, consequently, of those of beauty ; and not only this* 
some objects are found, in the constitution of things, to be 
followed by these feelings of beauty, while others are not } 
— and such objects are spoken of as being originally or in- 
trinsically beautiful. That is, when the object is present- 
ed to the mind it is of itself followed by emotions of beauty, 
without being aided by the influence of accessory and 
contingent circumstances. 

(5) Without pretending to certainty in fixing upon those 
objects, to which, what is termed original or intrinsick 
beauty may be ascribed, there appears to be no small rea- 
son, in attributing it to certain forms, to sounds of a par- 
ticular character, to bright colours, to certain expressions 

©f the countenance, and to praiseworthy actions. The 

whole amount, however, of the feeling of beauty, arising 
from this source, is comparatively small. (6) Many ob- 
jects, which cannot be considered beautiful of themselves, 
become such, by being associated with a variety of form- 
er pleasing and enlivening recollections; and such, as pos- 
sess intrinsick beauty, may augment the pleasing emo- 
tion from the same cause. Also much of the difference of 
opinion, which exists as to what objects are beautiful, and 

what are not, is to be ascribed to association.- These 

are some of the prominent views in this discussion ; others 
are, in a measure, subordinate, but are not without interest 
and importance. 

§. 303. Of picturesque beauty. 

We apply the term picturesque to whatever objects 
cause in us emotions of beauty, in which the beauty 
does not consist in a single circumstance by itself, but 
in a considerable number, in a happy state of combina- 
tion. The meaning of the term is analogous to the sig- 
nification of some others of a like termination, which 
are derived to us from the Italian through the medium 
of the French. Mr. Stewart remarks of the word, arabes- 
que, that it expresses something in the style of the Arabi- 
ans ; moresqne, something, in the style of the Moors; and 



EMOTIONS OF BEAUTY. 359 

grotesque, something which bears a resemblance to cer- 
tain whimsical delineation's in a grotto or subterranean a- 
partment at Rome. In like manner, picturesque, originally 
implies what is done in the style and spirit of a* painter, 
who ordinarily places before us an object made up of a 
number of circumstances, in such a state of combination, 
as to give pleasure. 

The epithet may be applied to paintings, to natural 
scenery, poetical descriptions, &c. The following des- 
cription from Thompson, which assembles together some 
of the circumstances, attending the cold, frosty nights of 
winter, is highly picturesque. 

"Loud rings the frozen earth and hard reflects 
"A double noise ; while at his evening watch, 
"The village dog deters the nightly thief; 
"The heifer lows ; the distant waterfall 
"Swells in the breeze ; and with the hasty tread 
"Of traveller, the hollow-sounding, plain 
^Shakes from afar." , - ■ - 



360 



CHAPTER TWENTY FOURTH. 



EMOTSOHS OF SUBXiXXftSTY' 



§. 304. Connection between beauty and sublimity. 

Those emotions, which we designate as sublime, are a 
class of feelings, which have much in common with emo- 
tions of beauty ; they do not differ so much in nature or 
kind, as in degree. When we examine the feelings, which 
go under these two designations, we readily perceive, that 
they have a progression ; that there are numerous degrees in 
point of intensity ; but the emotion, although more vivid in 
one case than the other, and mingled with some foreign 
elements, is for the most part, essentially the same. So 
that it is, by no means, impossible to trace a connection 
even between the fainter feelings of beauty, and the most 
overwhelming emotions of the sublime. 

This progression of our feelings from one, that is gen- 
tle and pleasant to one, that is powerful and even painful, 
has been happily illustrated in the case of a person, who is 
supposed to behold a river at its first rise in the mountains, 
and to follow it, as it winds and enlarges in the subjacent 
plains, and to behold it at last losing itself in the expanse 
of the ocean. For a time the feelings, which are excited 
within him, as he gazes on the prospect, are what are term- 
ed emotions of beauty. As the small stream, which had 
hitherto played in the uplands and amid foliage, that al- 
most hid it from his view, increases its waters, separates its 
banks to a great distance from each other, and becomes 
the majestick river ; his feelings are of a more powerful 
kind. We often, by way of distinction, speak of the feel- 
ings existing under such circumstances, as emotions of 
grandeur. At last it expands and disappears in the im- 
mensity of the ocean ; the vast illimitable world of bil- 
lows flashes in his sight; — the emotion then, widening and 
strengthening with the magnitude and energy of the ob- 



EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 361 

jects, which accompany it, becomes sublime. Emotions 

of sublimity, therefore, chiefly differ, at least in most instan- 
ces, from those of beauty in being more vivid and powerful. 

§. 305. Of sublimity a parte rei. 

There is neither beauty nor sublimity a parte rei, using 
a phrase, which has come down to us from the Schools. In 
saying, there is no sublimity of this sort, we mean, there is 
no sublimity, which has a permanent and unchangeable 
existence in all sublime objects, independently of the emo- 
tions, which we feel in the contemplation of them. Of 
those, who hold to the doctrine of a sublime of this des- 
cription, the opinions are various ; although they all main- 
tain, that sublimity is a quality existing alike in all objects, 
capable of producing the emotion, they are not agreed as 
to what, that particular quality is. According to one, it is 
the terrible ; another makes it consist in the exertion of 
mighty power ; according to a third, it is great altitude or 
vast extent. — -We cannot agree, that there is any abstract 
sublimity of this kind. When we rightly consider the 
words, sublimity, and the sublime, we shall regard them 
as merely common names, expressive of a certain charac- 
ter or trait in our emotions, and nothing more. And of 
course they are applied to all those emotions, however they 
may differ in some other respects, in which that distinctive 
characteristick is found. The characteristick, to which 
ive refer, is by no means easy of definition ; although it is 
generally understood to imply great vividness and strength. 

§; 306. Occasions of emotions of sublimity. 
It will aid in the better understanding of this subject 
briefly to mention some of the occasions, on which the 

feeling of sublimity arises. -Among other occasions* 

this emotion is found to exist, whenever it happens, 
that we have our attention called to objects of vast ex- 
tent. Accordingly, mountains of great altitude, the ce- 
lestial vault, when seen from high summits, vast plains, be- 
held from a commanding position, the ocean, &c. affect us 
with sublime emotions, 

46 



362 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 

There is the same result in the contemplation of all 
objects, which indicate great exertions of power ; even' 
when we have but very confused notions of that energy, 
which we know to be somehow put forth. Nothing can 
be more sublime, than a volcano, throwing out from its 
bosom, clouds, and burning stones, and immense rivers of 
lava. The ocean, greatly agitated with a storm, and toss- 
ing the largest navies, as if in sport, possesses an increase 
of sublimity, on account of the more striking indications 
©f power, which it at such a time gives. The shock of 
large armies also is sublime. But in these instances, as 
in most others, the sublime emotion cannot be ascribed 
solely to one cause ; something is to be attributed to vast 
extent ; something to the original effect of the brilliancy 
or darkness of colours ; and something to feelings of dread 
and danger. 

We often experience emotions of sublimity in witness- 
ing objects, that move with very great swiftness. This is 
one source of the feelings, which we have, at beholding 
bodies of water rushing violently down a cataract. For 
the same reason, the hurricane, that hastens onward with 
irresistible velocity, and lays waste whatever it meets, is 
sublime. And here also we find a cause of part of that 
sublime emotion, which we feel on seeing at a distance 
the electrick fluid, darting from the cloud to the earth. 

§. 307. Sublimity in actions or moral sublime. 

This emotion is found also to accompany certain ac- 
tions of men ; and here we find instances of what is termed 

moral sublime. We in general regard those human 

actions as sublime, which are not only praiseworthy ; but 
which are put forth under such circumstances, as very 
strongly to excite our feelings. So that we here also see 
the progression from the beautiful to the sublime, the same 
as in the beautiful and sublime of the natural world. The 
benevolent man is a pleasing or beautiful object, but when 
in the pains and agonies of death, he requests with his dy- 
ing breath, that the poor may be fed from his substance, 



EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 363 

the exercise of benevolenee under such circumstances 
strongly excites our feelings, and becomes an instance of 
the moral sublime. 

Whenever we look abroad upon men, and witness the 
trait of unconquerable fortitude, whenever we behold great 
self-possession in sudden and fearful emergencies, or see a 
readiness to share voluntarily in another's sufferings, or 
become acquainted with other moral exercises of a like 
kind, we cannot but experience a strong emotion. It is 
not easy to communicate an exact notion of this feeling, 
except perhaps in the circumstance of its great strength. 
It is evident, however, that it is closely analogous to that 
agitation and expansion of the soul, which exists, when we 
contemplate what is vast, and terrible, and mighty in na- 
ture. 

§. 308. JVo objects sublime of themselves. 

But objects are not sublime, any more than they are 
beautiful in themselves ; in both cases, it is the mind of 
man and that alone, which gives them the sublimity, they 
seem to possess of their own nature. The hurricane, the 
cataract, the lightning, when resolved into their elements, 
are only a number of contiguous atoms. And yet it seems 
to be unalterably fixed in the constitution of things, that 
we cannot behold them without strong feeling. The 
emotions, which we feel, are diffused by us over the objects, 
that are their cause, or more properly are antecedent to 
them ; and this diffusion will be found to be all, that con- 
stitutes their sublimity -There is a similar diffusion of 

our own emotions over objects of our contemplation, that 
are instances of the moral sublime. 

§. 309. Sublime, objects have some elements of beauty. 

We have seen, that a regular progression may, in most 
instances, be traced from the beautiful to the sublime. It 
seems, therefore, to follow, that instances of the sublime 
will, on removal of some circumstances, possess more or 
less of the beautiful. And this, on examination, will be 



364 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 

found to be generally the case. Take, as an exarnp^ 
the shock of powerful armies, which is confessedly a sub- 
lime scene. We have only to remove the circumstance 
of slaughter ; and at once the regular order of the froops, 
their splendid dress, and rapid movements, together with 
the floating of banners and the sound of musick, are ex- 
ceedingly picturesque and beautiful ; nothing more so. 
And all this is none the less beautiful, when thousands are 
falling and dying in actual contest; although the painful 
emotion, consequent on witnessing a scene of slaughter, 
so much overpowers the sense of the beautiful, that it ap- 
pears v ven not to have an existence. If the engagement 
between the armies should be wi I out the accompaniments 
of military dress, and without order, and without strains 
of musick, but a mere struggle between man and man, with 
such arms as came readiest, ini<; their pcwer, the scene, 
however destructive, would be any thing, rather than sub- 
lime. Diminish the foice of the whirlwind to that of 

the gentle bree e, and as it [ layfully sweeps by us, we feel 
that emotion of pleasure, which is an element of the beau- 
tiful. And so when the mighty cataract is dwindled down 
to the cascade, we shall discover, that the tumultuous emo- 
tions of ,iK sublime are convji -tad into the gentler feelings 
of beaut The sime effect will be found to follow the 
moral sublime. 

But it will be asked, was there any thing of moral beau- 
ty in Marius, ti.e blood-thirsty Roman chief? — And yet 
when we ^ee him sheltered amid the ruins of Carthage, 
fallen from his.grea ness, butretainii g the unconquerable 
will, there is something in it of sublimity. In reply it 
may be said, hat when we experience in this instance the 
moral sublime, we fix our attention upon a particular trait of 
character ; and do not wander over the whole life of the 
man. The trait lure is fortitude; and, consequently, we 
may discover in this, and in all similar instances, grada- 
tions o r emotion. Whenever we see an individual cheer- 
ful, and happy, and composed in ordinary difficulties and 
pressures, such an individual is undoubtedly an object of 
moral beauty. But let these misfortunes be increased, 



EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 365 

let him be driven from home and country, let the world, as 
it were, be combined against him, and the man, who, in 
such circumstances, betrays no diminution of fortitude, but 
holds up an unshaken stability of soul amid the blackness 
of the desolations around him, is a sublime object. We 
shall feel the emotion, whatever may be his character, be- 
cause our attention is fixed not upon the whole man, but 
upon a particular trait ; and that trait will be found, when 
exhibited in a less striking degree, to be a beautiful one. 
However true it may be, as a general statement, that 
sublimity implies some elements of the beautiful, it is not 
necessary to assert, that this is always the case. Perhaps 
in some instances it is not. A tract of barren heath or of 
sand, which certainly cannot possess much, if any beauty, 
may, when spread abroad before us to great extent have a 
considerable degree of the sublime. The statement given 
is meant as a general one, admitting certainly of but few 
exceptions. 

§. 310. Of emotions of grandeur. 

For all the various emotions, of which we are now 
speaking, as they rite from the lowest to the highest, we 
have the two general terms, beauty, and sublimity. There 
is, however, another form of expression, which is, with 
some good reason, putting forth its claims to be received 
into use ; viz. emotions of grandeur. We may happily ap- 
ply this phraseology to various objects, which we hardly 
know, whether to class with the beautiful or sublime ; hav- 
ing too much of fullness and expansiveness for the former, 
and too little of power for the latter. The meandering 
river is beautiful ; as it becomes deeper and wider, it as- 
sumes an appearance not of beauty, but of grandeur ; but 
the ocean only is more than either, is sublime. 

$. 311. Of original or intrinsick sublimity of objects* 

If there be a connection between the beautiful and 
sublime, if beauty, grandeur, and sublimity are only names 
for various emotions, not so much differing in kind, as in 
degree; essentially the same views, which were advanced 



3G6 EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 

in respect to beauty, will hold here. It will follow, that 
if the contemplation of some objects is attended with emo- 
tions of beauty, independently of associated feelings; or, 
in other words, if they have an intrinsick beauty, that there 
are objects also intrinsically sublime. Hence we may con- 
clude, that whatever has great height, or great depth, or 
vast extent, or other attributes of the sublime, will be able 
to excite in us emotions of sublimity of themselves, inde- 
pendently of aid from any connected, feelings. We have 
much ground for regarding this as a correct supposition ; 
and still a great part of the sublime emotion is to be attri- 
buted to association. 

§. 312. Influence of association on emotions of sublimity. 

The remark, that a great part of the sublime is to be at- 
tributed to association, admits of an illustration in the case 
of sounds. When a sound suggests ideas of danger, as the 
report of artillery, and the howling of a storm; when it 
calls up recollections of mighty power, as the fall of a cat- 
aract, and the rumbling of an earthquake, the emotion of 
sublimity, which we feel, is greatly increased by such sug- 
gestions. Few simple sounds are thought to have more of 
sublimity, than the report of a cannon ; but how different, 
how much greater the strength of feeling, than on other 
occasions, whenever we hear it coming to us from the fields 
of actual conflict ! Many sounds, which are in themselves 
inconsiderable, and are not much different from many oth- 
ers, to which we do not attach the character of sublimity, 
become highly sublime by association. There is frequent- 
ly a low feeble sound, preceding the coming of a storm, 
which has this character. 

" Along the woods, along the moorish fens, 
" Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm, 
*' Resounding long in fancy's listening ear. 

Thompsons Winter. 

It is sometimes the case, that people, whose sensibilities 
are much alive to thunder, mistake for it some common 
sounds, such as the noise of a carriage, or the rumbling of 
a cart. While they are under this mistake, they feel these 
sounds as sublime ; because they associate with them all 



EMOTIONS OF SUBLIMITY. 367 

those ideas of danger and of mighty power, which they cus- 
tomarily associate with thunder. The hoot of the owl at 
midnight is sublime chiefly by association ; also the scream 
of the eagle, heard amid rocks and deserts. The latter is 
particularly expressive of fierce and lonely independence ; 
and both are connected in our remembrances with some 

striking poetical passages. The same results will be 

found to hold in other cases. A view of the Egyptian 
pyramids animates us with sublime emotions ; it is impossi- 
ble to behold such vast efforts of human power, and be un- 
moved ; but the strength of these feelings is increased 
by means of the solemn recollection, that they have stood 
unshaken, while successive generations have flourished and 
perished at their feet, and by their being connected with 
many ideas of ancient magnificence, of unknown kings, 
and with numerous incidents in the history of a people, 
once famous for opulence and the arts, but now no longer 
an independent nation. Mount Sinai in Arabia Petrsea 
is a rocky pile of considerable altitude, and like other sum- 
mits must have always excited some emotion in those, who 
beheld it ; but when it is seen by a christian traveller, the 
sublime emotion is greatly increased by the recollection of 
the important place, which this summit holds in the histo- 
ry of the Jews, and of its consequent connection with the 
belief and the hopes of all those, who embrace the religion 
of the Saviour. 



Note. The subject of emotions of beauty and sublim- 
ity has justly been regarded as one of no small difficulty. 
A great variety of opinions have been advanced ; and ma- 
ny of them confused and contradictory. It would be un- 
wise, therefore, to recommend the reading of every thing, 
which has been written on the subject ; which would tend 
rather to perplex, than enlighten the mind. The views 
which have been given, are essentially those, wHch are il- 
lustrated and supported in Brown's Lectures on the Mind ; 
they are here given in a condensed form. There are also 
many interesting and philosophical illustrations in Alison's 
Nature and Principles of Taste, and in Burke's Inquiry in^ 
to the Sublime and Beautiful. 



368 



CHAPTER TWENTY FIFTH, 



OF IM AG22S-&TSOH. 



§. 313. Definition of the power of imagination. 

Imagination is a complex exercise of the mind, by 
means of which various conceptions are combined togeth- 
er, so as to form new wholes. The conceptions have 
properly enough been regarded as the materials, from 
which the new creations are made ; but it is not until af- 
ter the existence of those mental states, which are implied 
in imagination, that they are fixed upon, detained, and 
brought out from their state of singleness into happy and 
beautiful combinations. 

Our conceptions have been compared to shapeless 
stones, as they exist in the quarry, which "require little 
more than mechanick labour to convert them into common 
dwellings, but that rise into palaces and temples only at 
the command of architectural genius." That rude, and 
little more than mechanick effort, which converts the 
shapeless stones of the quarry into common dwellings, may 
justly be considered, when divested of its metaphorical as- 
pect, a correct representation of this mental property, as 
it exists among the great mass of mankind ; while the ar- 
chitectural genius, which creates palaces and temples, is 
the well-furnished and sublime imagination of poets, paint- 
ers, orators, &c. 

Imagination is a complex mental operation ; implying 
the exercise of the power of association or simple sugges- 
tion in furnishing those conceptions, which are combined 
together; also the exercise of that susceptibility, by which 
we perceive the relations of things, — that is, of relative 
suggestion. Nor is this all, that is necessary, as will here- 
after more fully appear. 



W 1KAQINATI01C. 5C9 

$. 314. The creations of imagination not entirely 
voluntary. 

The opinion, that even persons of the most ready imag- 
ination can form new imaginary creations, whenever they 
choose, by a mere volition, however widely it may have pre- 
vailed, cannot be maintained. To will, or to exercise a vo- 
lition, always implies a mental determination, a choice. 
In accordance with the common opinion, we will sup- 
pose, that a person wills, or chooses, to imagine an ocean 
of melted brass, or an immense body of liquid matter, which 
has that appearance. The statement itself evidently in- 
volves a contradiction. It is certainly impossible for a 
person to will to imagine any thing, since that precise thing, 
which he wills to imagine, must already be in his mind at 
the time of such volition. He wills, for instance, to imag- 
ine a sea of melted brass ; but of what meaning or what 
utility is this volition, when he has already imagined the ve- 
ry thing, which this language seems to anticipate as future ? 
Whatever a person wills, or rather professes, to will to 
imagine, he has already imagined ; and, consequently, there 
can be no such thing as entirely voluntary imaginations. 

§. 315. Of imaginations not attended with desire. 

The creations, which we form by means of the power of 
imagination are of two kinds, those attended with desire, 

and those which are not. It is the latter kind, which we 

speak of in this section. There is hardly any mind so 

wanting in intellectual wealth as not to find clusters of as- 
sociated conceptions, — groups of images, often arising in 
itself. They seem to come upon us, as it were, unbidden ; 
and to combine themselves in a variety of proportions, pre- 
senting new, and perhaps grotesque figures. But, al- 
though this varied presentation of floating imagery have 
the appearance of occupying the mind in an accidental 
manner, it all arises, and is regulated by the laws of sim- 
ple suggestion. No image whatever occurs, which has not 

some connection with the state of the mind, which prece- 
47 



370 OF IMAGINATION. 

ded it. In using these expressions, however, we would not 
be understood to imply, by the connection asserted, any 
thing more than this, that one intellectual state, in certain 
given circumstances, follows another, agreeably to an orig- 
inal law or principle of our constitution established by its 
maker. But although we truly have here instances of the 
exercise of imagination, it is not of that higher and effec- 
tive kind, which gives birth to the creations of poetry, and 
painting, and the other fine arts. 

§. 316. Of imaginations attended with desire. 

While there are some combinations, the result of imag- 
ination, which are formed without any accompanying emo- 
tion of desire, there are some, where desire, or intention 
of some sort, clearly exists. It is of cases of this last men- 
tioned kind that we are accustomed to think, when with 
those intellectual susceptibilities and states, to which, con* 
sidered conjointly, we give the name of imagination, we 
associate the idea of effective power or the ability to cre- 
ate. It is this frame of mind, which exists in every at- 
tempt at composition in prose and verse, where the sub- 
ject admits of lively images and appeals to the passions. 

It may assist us in understanding this species of imag- 
ination, if we endeavour to examine the intellectual opera- 
tions of one, who has sat down to write, whether the inten- 
ded production be of a poetick or other kind. 

A person cannot ordinarily be supposed to sit down to 
write on any Occasion whatever, without having some gen- 
eral idea of the subject to be written upon already in the 
mind. He, accordingly, commences the task before him 
with the expectation and the desire of developing the sub- 
ject more or less fully, of giving to it not only a greater 
continuity and a better arrangement, but an increased inter- 
est in every respect. And it may be the case, that many 
circumstances, indirectly relative to the effort of composi- 
tion, such as the anticipated approbation or disapprobation 
of the publick, have an affect greatly to fix and increase 
the emotion of interest or desire. All vivid emotions of 



©F IMAGINATION. 371 

Chis kind, such as love, fear, and hatred, (with which desire, 
in reference to some of its qualities, may be classed,) pos- 
sess a degree of permanency, which cannot be considered, 
as belonging to any mere conception. And, as, in the in- 
stance, which we are now considering, the emotion of de- 
sire or interest is intimately connected with the general 
conception of the subject before the mind, the effect of 
this connection is a communication of the permanency, 
originally belonging solely to the desire, to the general 
idea or outlines of the subject, which the writer is to dis- 
cuss. The conception, therefore, of those outlines loses 
in this way the fleeting and ever-varying nature of other 
conceptions, and becomes fixed. The lineaments of the 
anticipated treatise remain in their length, breadth, and 
proportions, permanently held up to the writer's view. 

Spontaneous conceptions continue, in the mean while, 
to arise in the mind, on the common principles of sugges- 
tion ; hut as the general outline of the subject remains 
fixed, they all have a greater or less relation to it. And 
partaking in some measure of the permanency of the out- 
line, to which they have relation, the writer has an oppor- 
tunity to approve some and to reject others, according as 
they impress him as being suitable or unsuitable to the na- 
ture of the subject. Those, which affect him with emo- 
tions of pleasure, on account of their perceived fitness for 
the subject, are retained and committed to writing, while 
others, which do not thus affect and interest him, soon fade 
away altogether. 

Whoever carefully notices the operations of his own 
mind, when he makes an effort at composition, will proba- 
bly be well satisfied, that this account of the intellectual 
process is very near the truth. 

It will be recollected, therefore, that the exercise of 
imagination in the composition of any theme, which ad- 
mits of it, is not the exertion of merely a single intellec- 
tual ability. It is the development of various susceptibil- 
ities, of desire, of the principle of simple suggestion or as- 
sociation, and of judgment or relative suggestion, in con- 
sequence of which a feeling of relative fitness or unfitnesi 



\ 



372 OP IMAGINATION. 

arises, on the contemplation of the conceptions, which 
have spontaneously presented themselves. 

§. 317. Further illustrations of the same subject 

We first think of some subject. With the original 
thought or design of the subject, there is a co-existent de- 
sire to investigate it, to adorn it, to present it to the exam- 
ination of others. The effect of this desire is to keep the 
general subject in mind ; and, as the natural consequence of 
the power of association, various conceptions arise, in some 
way or other related to the general subject. Of some of 
these conceptions we approve in consequence of their per- 
ceived fitness to the end in view, while we reject others on 
account of the absence of this requisite quality of agreea- 
bleness or fitness. 

For the sake of convenience and brevity we give the 
name of imagination to this complex state or series of 
states of the mind. It is important to possess a single 
term, expressive. of the complex intellectual process, other- 
wise, as we so frequently have occasion to refer to it in 
common conversation, we should be subjected, if not prop- 
erly to a circumlocution, at least to an unnecessary mul- 
tiplication of words. But while we find it so much for our 
convenience to make use of this term, we should be careful 
and not impose upon ourselves, by ever remembering, that 
it is the name, nevertheless, not of an original and indepen- 
dent faculty, which of itself accomplishes all, that has been 
mentioned, but of a complex state or of a series of states 
of the mind. A single further remark may be added in 
illustration of the process of the mind in literary composi- 
tion. It has been seen, to how great a degree efforts of 
this kind depend on the laws of suggestion. When, there- 
fore, a person has sat down to write, it may be expected, 
that he has furnished himself with pen and paper, and that 
he has books around him. The presence of these and oth- 
er things, subordinate to the writer's general undertaking, 
constantly reminds him, by the operation of the same laws, 
of the lubjcct before him, and recals his attention, if ho 
discover any disposition to wander from it. 



OF IMAGINATION. %1% 

§. 318. Remarks from the writings of Dr. Reid. 

Dr. Reid (Essay IV. ch. 4.) gives the following graph- 
ical statement of the selection, which is made by the wri- 
ter from the variety of his constantly arising and departing 
conceptions. 

" We seem to treat the thoughts, that present themselves 
to the fancy in crowds, as a great man treats those [court- 
iers] that attend his levee. They are all ambitious of his 
attention. He goes round the circle, bestowing a bow up- 
on one, a smile upon another ; asks a short question of a 
third, while a fourth is honoured with a particular confer- 
ence ; and the greater part have no particular mark of at- 
tention, but go as they came. It is true, he can give no 
mark of his attention to those, who were not there ; but 
he has a sufficient number for making a choice and dis- 
tinction." 

§. 319. Grounds of the preference of one conception to 

another. 

A question after all arises, on what principle is the 
mind enabled to ascertain that congruity, or incongruity, 
fitness or unfitness, agreeably to which it makes the selec- 
tion from its various conceptions. The fact is admitted, 
that the intellectual principle is successively in a series of 
different states, or, in other words, that there are succes- 
sive conceptions or images, but the inquiry still remains, 
why is one image in the group thought or known to be 
more worthy than any other image, or why are any two 
images combined together in preference to any two others? 
The answer is, it is owing to no secondary law, but to 
an instantaneous and original feeling of approbation or 
disapprobation. Those conceptions, which according to 
this original power of approving or disapproving, are found 
to be suitable to the general outlines of the subject, are 
detained. Those images, which are perceived to possess 
a peculiar congruity and fitness for each other, are united 
together, forming new and more beautiful compounds. 
While others, although no directly voluntary power is ex- 



374 OF IMAGINATION. 

ercised over either class, are neglected, and soon become 
extinct. But no account of this vivid feeling of approval 
or disapproval, of this very rapid perception of the mutual 
cbngruity of the images for each other or for the general 
conception of the subject, can be given, other than this, 
that with such a power, the original author of our intel- 
lectual susceptibilities has been pleased to form us. 

§. 320. Mental process in the formation of Milton's 
imaginary paradise. 

What has been said can perhaps be made plainer, by 
considering in what way Milton must have proceeded, in. 
forming his happy description of the garden of Eden. — 
He had formed, in the first place, some general outlines of 
the subject ; and as it was one, which greatly interested 
his feelings, the interest, which was felt, tended to keep 
the outlines steadily before him. — Then, the principles of 
association, which are ever at work, brought up a great 
variety of conceptions, having a relation of some kind to 
those general features; spch as conceptions of rocks, and 
woods, and rivers, and green leaves, and golden fruit. — 
The next step was the exercise of that power, which we 
have of perceiving relations, which has sometimes been 
designated as the susceptibility or power of relative sug- 
gestion. By means of this he was at once able to deter- 
mine, whether the conceptions, which were suggested, 
were suitable to the general design of the description and 
to each other, and whether they would have, when com- 
bined together to form one picture, a pleasing effect. Ac- 
cordingly, those, which were judged most suitable, were 
combined together as parts of the imaginary creation, and 
were detained and fixed by means of that feeling of inter? 
est, which was at first exercised towards the more promi- 
nent outlines merely ; while others speedily disappeared 
from the mind.— And thus arose an imaginary landscape, 
more interesting, more perfect, than we can ever expect tQ 
find realized in nature. 



OF IMAGINATION. 375 

$. 321. Limitations of imagination by the condition 
of the senses. 

The power of imagination depends in some measure on 
the number and condition of the senses. If Milton had 
been blind from infancy, it cannot be supposed, that he 
would have been able to have formed that beautiful com- 
bination, the description of Paradise. Had he possessed 
the sense of seeing only in an imperfect degree, furnished, 
for instance, with only those glimmerings of sight, which 
persons sometimes possess before being couched for the 
cataract, he would not have been able to have done it, at 
least to the degree of perfection, in which the description 
appears at present. 

A person undertakes to describe a battle, who has al- 
ways been deaf; and in order that he may enjoy every 
facility for the execution of his plan, he places himself on 
some eminence, where he can overlook those military man- 
oeuvres and conflicts, the description of which he antici- 
pates giving. He gives us an account of the number en- 
gaged, of the position occupied, of the military dress, of 
the valour of different corps ; but it was to him, as he be- 
held it, and it is to us, as we read it in his description, only 
a noiseless scene. A deathlike silence prevails. The word 
of command flies from rank to rank and we hear it not* 
The hoofs of war-horses beat the earth, and we perceive 
the motion, without a perception of the noise of their 
tread. We witness the flashes of cannon on the hills of 
the battle, but while we feel the trembling of the earth, no 

sound reaches us. What an inadequate conception must 

a person, who does not possess the sense of hearing, have 
of many of those circumstances, which inspire others with 
emotions of pleasure and sublimity ! 

Similar remarks will apply to those cases, where there 

is a failure of any other sense. We read of a philoso- 

pher,who attempted to give a blind man a notion of scarlet 
colour. The philosopher assured him, that it yielded a lively 
and pleasant sensation ; that it was an emblem of courage ; 
and being considered ornamental to them, was worn by 



376 



OF IMAGINATION. 



kings and princes. Having specified these and some oth- 
er things, connected with this colour, he then asked the 
blind man, whether he had any idea of scarlet ? The 
blind man replied, that he thought he had some notion of 
it, and that he supposed, it must be more like the sound 
of a trumpet, than anything else in the world. 

But it will be asked, how does it then happen, that men 
born blind, frequently talk of visible things with great 
readiness and propriety 9 When they with propriety ap- 
ply epithets to objects of colour, such conversation must be 
the effect of memory. They repeat what they have heard 
others say. For, if they are perfectly blind, they certainly 
can have no idea of what is meant by colours ; being as ig- 
norant of them as any man whatever is of the phenomena 
of the world of spirits. 

In their efforts, (which, in consequence of their unhap- 
py condition, they undoubtedly often make,J to form a 
conception of light, their ideas must always be conform- 
ed, in a great measure, to the knowledge they already pos- 
sess by means of the other senses. And it must conse- 
quently be very erroneous, as there is certainly noth- 
ing in the nature of light, analogous to the nature of 
sound, or of taste, or of smell. 

§. 322. Explanation of the case of the poet Blacklock. 

In connection with the remarks, which have already 
been made on the limitation of imagination by the state 
and condition of the senses, it seems proper to say some- 
thing in explanation of the case of the poet Blacklock. 

Thomas Blacklock, a poet and a minister of the estab- 
lished church of Scotland, lost his sight in consequence 
of a disease at five months of age. It does not come 
within our plan to repeat in this place his interesting and 
instructive history, any further than to say that, notwith- 
standing the great misfortune, under which he laboured, he 
made such advances in learning as to merit the reputation 
of a philosopher as well as of a poet. "I am acquainted, 
(says Dr. Beattie, referring to Blacklock,) with a person, 



OP IMAGINATION. ST7 

who, having at the age of five months lost his sight by the 
small-pox, retains not the idea of any thing visible : and is 
yet a good poet, philosopher, and divine, a most ingenious 
as well as a most worthy man. He dreams too as frequent- 
ly as other people, and dreams are universally ascribed to 
the fancy; and his writings prove, that he possesses, what 
every critick will allow to be, and what Addison himself 
would have called, a sublime imagination." 

In the remarks before made, we find a solution, in some 
measure, of his poetical ability. He was undoubtedly a 
person of a natural capacity superiour to that of most men ; 
and possessed in particular of no small share of poetical 
sensibility. Giving loose to the ardour of his imagination, 
he was led to treasure up in his memory, from conversation 
and from hearing works read, the words, white, black, 
purple, and others, descriptive of the colour of objects. 
His general accuracy, in the application of them, may be 
accounted for in this way. He had acquired in the same 
way, that he had acquired the words themselves, those as- 
sociations, which people in general are in the habit of at- 
taching to such colours, as have been mentioned. With 
the word, white, for instance, although it could not sug- 
gest to him the idea of that colour, he associated the iJeas 
of cheerfulness and innocence ; with the word, purple , the 
ideas of splendour and majesty; with the word black, the 
qualities of gloom and melancholy, ft is not, therefore, 
wholly unaccountable, that he should have been able to 
speak of the "purple" dawn, or of "dark" woodland scene- 
ry, although he at the same time was without any correct 
notions of the primary signification of these terms. 

§. 323. Works of imagination give different degrees of 
'pleasure. 

Different persons receive different degrees of pleasura 
from works of imagination. The fact is well known. 
Something may be said in explanation of it, in reference to 
poetry ; which is one of the creations of the power, we are 
considering. And the same explanation will apply in [art 

to other efforts of the imagination. Although poetry hi 

48 



378 OF IMAGINATION, 

generally looked upon to be a useful and pleasing art, vre< 
find, that all have not the same relish for its beauties. 
The pleasure, which is felt by a reader of poetry, will in- 
general depend upon two circumstances, (1) the confor- 
mity of his experience to the things described, (2) the live- 
liness of his own imagination. 

The pleasure received will depend, in the first place, 
on the conformity of the reader's experience, to the things 

described. Accordingly, if the scene of a poem be laid 

within the limits of a commercial city, if it deal chiefly in 
the description of the habits of the people residing there, 
and of their various turns of fortune, it will excite but. 
comparatively little interest in those, who have been 
brought up wholly amid retired and rural scenes. And 
when, on the other hand, the scene of it is laid in the 
country, when it deals in the toils, and sorrows, and joys of 
country life, it excites comparatively little interest in those, 
who have never had any actual experience of that kind. 
Burn's Cotter's Saturday Night is an admirable poem ; but 
it is exceedingly more pleasing to those, who can clearly 
perceive, from what they have themselves seen, and heard, 
and felt, its accurate conformity to nature, than to those, 
who cannot. 

The pleasure, which is felt by a reader of poetry, will 
depend also in part on the liveliness of his own imagina- 
tion. In poems the different parts are only imperfectly 

filled up ; some describe more minutely than others ; but 
the most minute describersonly trace the outlines. These 
remain, therefore, to be filled up by the reader. But the a- 
bility to do this is found in very different degrees in different 
persons ; some very rapidly an ' admirably finish the picture, 
and others do not. The latter, consequently, remain, in a 
considerable degree, unaffected, and perhaps condemn the 
ppem as deficient in interest ; while the former read it 
with great feeling and pleasure. This statement ac- 
counts for the fact, that the same poem gives to different 
persons different degrees of satisfaction ; and also, in as 
much as it requires in all cases some power of imagination 
"in the reader, explains the circumstance, that so many 



OF IMAGINATION. 



S79 



appear to be utterly destitute of any relish for the beau- 
ties of the poetick art. 

$. 324. Utility of the creations of poetry, painting, kc. 

Some have questioned the utility both of the poetick 
and of the other fine arts. It is evident, that the bene- 
fits and evils of poetry, whatever they may be, cannot be 
accurately pointed jut, without the separate consideration 
of each department, into which the art is divided. The 
elegy, lyricks, the epick, pastorals, descriptive and didac- 
tick poetry, and the tragedy, all have their different laws ; 
they aim, in some measure, at different objects, and cannot 
be judged of on precisely the same principles. But as the 
consideration of each department separately cannot be at- 
tempted, a few general remarks must answer. Poetry 

preserves the recollection of early days. When wo are 
nigh having every finer feeling entirely blunted by the 
cares and interests of life, it revives before us a youth of 
innocence, confidence, and affection. In doing this, it tells 
us, we must not give up all to the world, and that if we 
would be happy and beloved, we must yield something to 
the cultivation of the moral sensibilities. This is one ben- 
efit; Poetry dwells with enthusiasm on the works of na- 
ture. It makes us acquainted with the blue mountains, 
the " gray old trunks " of trees, the voice of floods ; and 
while it holds up the beauties of nature, it secures a yet 
higher object, in more fully revealing to us the character of 

the author of nature. And here is another good result. 

Poetry may be said to be the book of the passions. It 
paints man without reserve ; both his good and bad qual- 
ities. It describes his truth, his gratitude, and his magna- 
nimity ; and, on the other hand, -discloses with equal free- 
dom the unworthy passions of pride, self-seeking, envy, re- 
venge. The benefit here is, not merely that the passions, 
which are the elements of human nature, are made known, 
but that it is done with such precision, with such truth, 

and strength. Further ; poetry realizes by anticipation 

those restless and expansive desires, which we find natur- 
ally in the soul. He, who scrutinizes the operations of 



680 OF IMAGINATION 

h's mind, will observe it full of activity ; it is ever strug- 
gl ng against the bounds, which limit it; as if fully con- 
scious of its immortal destiny, it not cnly looks forward to 
something new, but to something greater, and higher, and 
nobler. And hence it enters with joy into those bright 
creations, those new worlds, which it is the prerogative of 
poetry to form ; and they seem to it a congenial residence. 
Most of these considerations in favour of the poetick 
art will £ pply also to painting. Thess are truly sister arts ; 
they require, in the performance, a kindred genius ; their 
object, is essentially the same. Po try indeed addresses 
itself to the ear, and painting to the sight; but both are 
cddr esed to the imagination. And the success in either 
case will depend greatly on the degree, to which the ima- 
gination is awakened up. Other fine arts, musick, sculp- 
ture, architecture, as well as poetry and painting, are arts 
of the imagination. They are addrt ssed to it, and are foun- 
ded on it. They may all be equally misapplied and perver- 
ted. But when directed, as they ought to be, it is no less 
evident, that they are indications of the progress of the hu- 
man mind, and may contribute to men's convenience and 
enjoyment. 

$. 325. Of 'misconceptions by means of the imagination. 

But while it is safe to admit, that the imagination may 
be made subservient to valuable purposes, it is no less true, 
that it may sometimes mislead us. The following are in- 
stances among others, where this is the result. Our 

admiration of the great may be reckoned a prejuJice of 
the imagination. We are apt to suppose them possessed 
of personal attractions, and of the highest happiness ; and 
not enly this, to invest them with every worthy moral attri- 
bute. " Tl e misfortunes, (says a late writer,) of Mary, 
Queen of Scots, and of her descendant, Prince Charles 
Edward, commanded the sympathy, the love, and the en- 
thusiasm of millions. In the cause of these princes, how 
many have joyfully sacrificed life, though neither of them 
was worthy or capable of reigning ! How many labour 
still to blot out every stain from their memory ! And ye! 



Or IMAGINATION. 381 

every individual, in the circle of his own private friends 
and acquaintances, can undoubtedly find many persons 
more distinguished for virtue, for good principles, for in- 
tegrity of character, than the prince for whom he is will- 
ing to lav down his life ; but a friend, a private man is in- 
vested with none of those attributes, always dazzling but 
often fal^e, which are calculated to strike the imagination." 

Our imaginations mislead us also in respect to war, 

whenever we contemp'ate it at a distance, and do not feel 
its effects at our own firesides and homes. We delight to 
dwell upon the idea of mighty power, which it suggests ; 
we recal to memory the homage and plaudits, which have 
been given to the brave ; we combine together conceptions 
of all, that is stirring in musick, and brilliant in equipage. 
In a word, it is a kindling imagination, seizing upon some 
imposing circumstances, that leads multitudes into deplo- 
lable mistakes as to the character of that great scourge of 
the human race.- Again ; the power of imagination of- 
ten gives a wrong colouring to future life. It is here as in 
some prospects in natural scenery, 

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. 

Whatever may be our present evils, we imagine there 
is good to come. We rush forward in the pursuit of it, 
like children, who set out with spirited emulation, expect- 
ing to grasp in their hands the splendours of the rainbow, 
that appears to them to rest upon the neighbouring hills. 

§. 326. Explanation of the above misrepresentations of 
the imagination. 

But how happens it, that this faculty so often misleads 
us ? What explanation can be given . ? 

The answer is, that the mind turns away with a natural 
aversion from whatever causes it pain or uneasiness; delight- 
ing to dwell on the elements of beauty and sublimity, and 
in general on all scenes, which excite in it pleasant emo- 
tions. As there is, therefore, more or less in all actual 
situations, which causes dissatisfaction, we shall always find, 
in every condition, in which we are placed, something, 
which detracts from what we imagine to be the sum of hap- 



3$g OF IMAGINATION- 

pinesss. The evils, which are around us and neat us, we 
must know ; Our situation forbids an attempt at the con- 
cealment of them. Every day forces the lesson of human 
adversity on our attention. But when we look abroad from 
the reality, which exists at home, from the cares and the 
sorrows, which are ever near at hand, to other scenes and 
prospects, we do not think of trial and disappointment, be- 
cause we are not obliged to. We fix our attention upon 
those circumstances, which appear most favourable and in- 
teresting ; and ; consequently,knovv nothing of the uneasiness 
and misery, which actually exist in the imaginary Paradise of 
our creation. — For instance, we are apt to associate, as has 
been remarked, with persons in very high stations in life, 
the ideas of unalloyed happiness, of moral excellence, of 
manliness and beauty of form; but while men in the most 
exalted stations have no less a share than others of bodily 
deformities and suffering, they have still greater anxie- 
ties ; their hours of sorrow are often more numerous than 
those of any other class of persons. It was well inquired 
by King Henry in Shakespeare, 

" What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 

" That private men enjoy i 

*• And what have king-, that privates have not too, 
" Save ceremony, save general ceremony f 

And under the direction of the same mental tendency, 
by which we are led to mark the elevations without noti- 
cing the depressions of the great men of the earth, we are 
led also to see the sublimities and hide from our sight the 
degradations and miseries of war, to behold the sunshine 
of the future, but no clouds. 

$. 327. Fcelihgs of sympathy aided by imagination* 

But where the imagination is not at liberty to fix itself 
exclusively upon pleasing circumstances, the results as to 
the degree of creative power are the same, although they 
are of a different kind. . In the one case, it forms creations 
of beauty, magnificence, sublimity ; in the other, it is equal- 
ly efficacious in combining images of gloom and suffering. 
H«nce a quick 6l powerful imagination is no small ajd in tb« 



0T IMAGINATION. 38$ 

exercise of the sympathetic!; feelings. Accordingly, when 
two men, the one a person of imagination, the other not, 
meet a poor man, who has been suddenly reduced to pover- 
ty, they will be found to have different degrees of sympathy 
for him. The former no doubt will pity the unfortunate 
man ; but the latter will pity more. He will think of his 
former situation ; he will follow him to his dwelling ; he 
will see in his " prophetick eye" the tears of his family; 
in a word, he will, as a general statement, have more 
feeling for all individuals in suffering, and, consequently, be 
likely to do more for them. 

Thus, in Sterne's Sentimental Journey, he is led by 
some circumstance to think of a captive in one of the 
French State Prisons. Pie gives the reins to his imagina- 
tion ; "and looks through the twilight of the grated door to 

take the picture. 1 beheld, (says he,) his body half-wasted 

with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind 
of sickness of the heart it is, which arises from hope defer- 
red. Upon looking nearer, T saw him pale and feverish. 
In thirty years, the western breeze had not fanned his 
blood. He had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time } 
nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through 

his lattice. -His children But here my heart began 

to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of 
the portrait." 

§. 328. Remarks on taste in the fine arts. 

Closely connected with the subject of imagination and 
of emotions of beauty and sublimity, is that of taste in the 
fine arts. Taste is a habit of correctly judging of beau- 
ty and deformity in works of art, founded on the expe- 
rience of emotions. We find all men to be formed with 

some degree of sensibility to the appearances of external 
nature : some things strike them as pleasing ; others as 
displeasing. We may notice the developernent of this 
susceptibility of emotions in children, who show an attach- 
ment for some objects, a dislike for others ; at one time 
are pleased, at another pained. The most stupid peasant 
lingers to behold the clouds, that brighten in the setting 
sun ; and at his rude fireside listens with pleasure to old 



384 OF lMAGINATiOrr. 

tales and ballads. As no man is without feeling, we all 

begin after a time to ascribe certain characteristicks to 
objects, answering to those emotions, which have been ex- 
cited in us. We set down some as pleasing, others as dis- 
pleasing ; some as beautiful, others as deformed ; and oth- 
ers as possessing the marks of grandeur and sublimity. 
That is, we form a judgment of objects, founded on the 
emotions, which we experience. 

We do not ordinarily speak of the works of nature, as 
objects of taste ; they excite in us emotions of various 
kinds ; but in general we employ the term, taste, in refer- 
ence to the fine arts. A man may be said to have a 

taste in the arts, who, from a careful study of the emotions, 
that have been excited in himself or others on various 
occasions, can tell, with a considerable degree of accuracy f 
what works will be found generally pleasing, or the oppo- 
site. This implies, that he will readily seize upon the 

great characteristicks of the work, whatever it is, of which 
he judges ; and being able to point out its prominent ex- 
cellencies and defects, he can be expected to give the gen- 
eral character of the painter, poet, sculptor, &c. on whose 
production he may happen to be remarking. 

Thus, a man of taste in painting gives us the following 
idea of the character of Rubens. His figures, as we learn 
from him, were not always drawn with so much ease and 
with such studied correctness, as those of some other paint- 
ers. His superiority lies not in an attitude or any peculiar 
expression, but in. the general effect, in the genius, which 
pervades and illuminates the whole. The works of some 
other painters are the effect of great labour and pains ; 
and, with very few defects, are after all spiritless and insip- 
id ; but those of Rubens seem to have come from his hand 
with ease and freedom, and are full of spirit. The bril- 
liancy of his colours, and their lively opposition to each 
other, the flowing freedom of his outline and the animation 
of his pencil keep alive the attention of the spectator, and 
make him feel a degree of that enthusiasm, with which the 
painter himself was carried away. This was Sir J. Rey- 
nold's opinion of Rubens. 



OF iaXAGIN"ATl»Jf 38£ 

§. 329. Characteristicksi &c. of a good taste. 

In connection with the illustrations above given, we 

may lay down two characteristicks of a good taste. Th« 

first is correctness. The province of correctness of 

taste is the detection of blemishes. The taste, that has 
this quality, does not mistake deformities for beauty, and 
is not likely to be imposed upon by counterfeits, however 

well executed. A second characteristick is delicacy. 

A person of delicacy of taste notices those more refined 
beauties, which are perceived only by cultivated minds. 
It marks the latent, as well as the more obvious excel- 
lencies. 

It is worthy of notice, that the judgments, which a per- 
son of taste passes upon works of art, are rapid ; he often 
forms an opinion of them instantaneously. When it is re- 
membered, that taste is not a distinct faculty, but a power, 
which is acquired, this circumstance deserves some notice. 
It is explained, however, in the definition, which has been 

given, viz. Taste is the habit of judging correctly, &c. 

The influence of habit, in giving quickness to our mental 
operations, was considered in some remarks in the chapter 
on Attention. The skilful accountant can tell, by a mere 
glance of the eye, the sum of a long column of figures. 
The practised military engineer estimates with almost intu- 
itive readiness the fitness or unfitness of a spot of ground for 
encampments and fortifications. — It is the same in the de- 
cisions of taste. The person, who has this quality in a 
good degree, is impressed with the excellencies and defects 
of a production in the arts at once. That is, he takes into 
view the various circumstances, which go to constitute its 
beauty or deformity with such quickness, that it appears 
feo be a single perception. 



49 



336 



CHAPTER TWENTY SIXTH? 



OF WIT. AND HUMOUR. 



§. 330. Emotions of the ludicrous. 

We shall not be in a way to give a correct idea of wit 
and humour, without briefly examining another class of our 
feelings, viz, emotions of the ludicrous. It is difficult to give 
a precise definition of this feeling, although, when we ana- 
lyze it, we find it to be complex, embracing an emotion of* 
su: prize, also of quick and playful delight. But the pleas- 
ing part of the emotion receives a peculiar modification, 
and one, which cannot be fully conveyed in words, in con- 
sequence of our perception of some incongruity in the 
person or thing, which is the cause of it. 

§. 331. Occasions of emotions of the ludicrous. 

But what are the true occasions of emotions of the Iu* 
dicrous ? — In answer, we say, that this feeling is never ex- 
perienced, except when we notice something, either in 
thoughts, or in outward objects and actions, which is un- 
expected and uncommon. That is to say, whenever this 
emotion is felt, there is always an unexpected discovery by 

us of some new relations. But then it must be observed, 

that the feeling in question does not necessarily exist in con- 
sequence of the discovery of such relations merely. Some- 
thing more is necessary, as may be very readily seen. 

Thus, we are sometimes, in the physical sciences, present- 
ed with unexpected and novel combinations of the proper- 
ties and qualities of bodies. But whenever we discover in 
those sciences relations in objects, which were not only 
unknown, but unsuspected, we find no emotion of ludi- 
crousness, although we are very pleasantly surprized.— -A- 
gain, similes, metaphors, and other like figures of speech 
imply in general some new and unexpected relations of 



OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 387 

^ ideas. It is this trait in them, which gives them their 
chief force. But when employed in serious compositions, 

they are of a character far from being ludicrous. Hence 

we infer, that emotions of ludicrousness do not exist on 
the discovery of new and unexpected relations, unless there 
is at the same time a perception, or supposed perception of 
some incongruity or unsuitablcness. Such perception of 
unsuitableness may be expected to give to the whole emo- 
tion a new and specifick character, which every one is ac- 
quainted with from his own experience, but which, as be- 
fore intimated, it is difficult to express in words. 

§. 332. Of Hobbes' account of the ludicrous. 

There has not been an entire uniformity on the subject of 
emotions of the ludicrous. It would seem, that Fobbes 
(Human nature, chap, ix.) considered feelings of this kind, 
as depending on a modification of mere pride in a compari- 
son of ourselves with others to our own advantage. He 
says of laughter, which, when considered in reference to 
the mind and independently of the mere muscular action) 
is nothing more than a feeling of the ludicrous, that it is " a 
sudden glory, arising from a sudden conception of some em- 
inency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of 

others, or with our own formerly." To this notion of 

the origin of this class of our feelings, there are some objec- 
tions ; viz. (1) In many instances we have the feeling in 

question, when there is evidently no discovery of any in- 
firmity, either in the witty person, or in the subject of his 
wit, over which we can ourselves triumph with any good 

reason. (2) Further, if the doctrine, which resolves the 

emotion of ludicrousness into a proud comparison of our- 
selves with others, were correct, it would follow, that the 
most proud and self conceited men would be most inclined 
to mirth and sociability, which we do not find to be the 

fact. (3) According to Hobbes' notion of the origin of 

these feelings, we have only to go into the company of the 
most ignorant and stupid, if we wish to be exceedingly 
.merry. In such company we could not fail to be sensible 



38$ OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 

of some eminency in ourselves, in comparison with the infir- 
mities of others. We should here be in a situation, cor- 
responding to his definition of laughter, but there can be 
no doubt, that multitudes would be but very little inclined 
to indulge that feeling in the midst of such associates. 

But while we cannot receive this writer's account of the 
feeling in question, we may undoubtedly be well agreed in 
respect to it, as far as this ; There is an emotion of sur- 
prize, combined with a quick and playful delight of a pecu- 
liar kind, and this emotion arises on the discovery of unex- 
pected relations of ideas, and the perception or apparent 
perception of some incongruity. 

§. 333. What is to be understood by wit 

We apprehend, that an emotion of the ludicrous is al- 
ways, in a greater or less degree, experienced in all instan- 
ces of wit, as the term is generally understood at the pres- 
ent time. We are, therefore, led to this definition of it ; — 
Wit consists in suddenly presenting to the mind an assem- 
blage of related ideas of such a sort as to occasion feelings 

of the ludicrous. This is done in a variety of ways ; 

and among others in the two following. 

§. 334. Of wit as it consists in burlesque or in debasing 

objects* 

The first method, which wit employs in exciting the 
feeling of the ludicrous, is, by debasing those things, which 
are pompous ?; that is, those things which have an appear- 
ance of greater weight and gravity, than they are truly en- 
titled to. Descriptions of this sort are termed burlesque. 

An attempt to lessen what is truly and confessedly serious 
and important, has in general an unpleasant effect, very 

different from that, which is caused by true wit. In the 

practice of burlesque, as on all other occasions of wit, there 
is a sudden and uncommon assemblage of related ideas. 
Take as an instance the following comparison from Hu- 
dibras ; 

" And dow had Phoebus in the lap 
" Of That'll tafcan out hit nap ; 



OF WIT AND HUMOUR, 589 

** And, like a lobster boiled, the mom 
'* From black to red began to turn. 

Of a similar kind are those instances, in which objects 
of real dignity and importance are coupled with things 
mean and contemptible, although there is no direct and 
formal comparison made. As in this instance from the 
above-mentioned book ; 

" For when the restless Greeks sat down 
•* So many years before Troy-town, 
" And were renowned, as Homer writes, 
" For well-soaled boots, no less than rights. 

In these instances we have related ideas. In the first, 
there is undoubtedly an analogy between a lobster and the 
morning, in the particular of its turning from dark to red. 
But however real it may be, it strikes every one, as a singu- 
lar and unexpected resemblance. In the other passage, it 
is not clear, that Butler has done any thing more than Ho- 
mer in associating the renown of the Greeks with their 
boots, as well as their valour. But to us it is hardly less 
uncommon, and singular, not to sayjncongruous, than the 
former. 

§. 335. Of wit when employed in aggrandizing objects. 

The second method, which wit employs in exciting 
emotions of the ludicrous, is by aggrandizing objects, which 
are in themselves inconsiderable. This species of wit may 
be suitably termed mock-majestick or mock-heroick. While 
the former kind delights in low expressions, this is the re- 
verse, and chooses learned words, and sonorous combina- 
tions. In the following spirited passage of Pope, the wri- 
ter compares dunces to gods, and Grub-street to heaven. 

" As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie 

" In homage to ihe mother of the sky, 

41 Surveys around her in the blest abode 

*' An hundred sons, and every son a god ; 

"Not with less glory mighty Dullness crowned, 

*'• Shall take through Grubstreet her triumphant round ; 

V And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once, 

" Behold an hundred sons, and each a dunce. 

In this division of wit, are to be included those instan- 
ces where grave and weighty reflections are made upon 



390 OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 

mere trifles. In this case, as in others, the ideas are in 
some respects related, or have something in common ; but 
the grouping of them is so curious and unexpected, that we 
cannot observe it without considerable emotion. 

" My galligaskins, that have long withstood 
** The winter's fury and encroaching frosts, 
"By time subdued, (what will not time subdue !) 
" An horrid chasm disclose. 

There are various other ways, in which ideas are com- 
bined together, so as to excite in us that emotion, which 

follows whatever we term witty. It is worthy of remark, 

that some sayings, which would otherwise have appeared 
to us witty, lose their intended effect, whenever we are led 
to suspect, that they were premeditated. Hence an obser- 
vation or allusion, which would be well received in conver- 
sation, would often be insipid in print; and it is for the 
same reason, that we receive more pleasure from a witty 

repartee, than a witty attack. From this circumstance 

we infer, that part of the complex feeling, which follows a 
witty saying, is an emotion of vivid pleasure or admiration, 
at witnessing the power of the witty person in bringing to- 
gether peculiar combinations of thought. 

§. 336. Of the character and occasions of humour. 

We in general apply the terms, humour, and, humorous, 
to descriptions of a particular character, whether written, 

or given in conversation. We find among men what 

seems to us a disproportion in their passions ; for instance, 
when they are noisy and violent, but not durable. — We 
find inconsistencies, contradictions, and disproportions in 
their actions. — The)* have their foibles, (hardly any one is 
without them,) such as self-conceit, caprice, foolish partial- 
ities, jealousies, &c. Such incongruities in feeling and 
action cause an emotion of surprise, like an unexpected 
combination of ideas in wit. Observing them, as we do, 
in connection with the acknowledged high traits and res- 
ponsibilities of human nature, we can no more refrain from 
an emotion of the ludicrous, than we can, on seeing a gen- 
tleman of fine clothes and high dignity making a false step, 



OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 391" 

and tumbling into a gutter. — A person, who can seize upon 
these specialities in temper and conduct, and set them forth 
in a lively and exact manner, is called a man of humour ; his 
descriptions are humorous descriptions. — Addison has giv- 
en many examples of the humorous in the incidents & char- 
acters of the Tatler and Spectator. But excellence in this 
species of writing is not very frequently found, and is an 
attainment of considerable difficulty. In general it im- 
plies something peculiar in the character of the writer. 
There are some persons, who seem to have a natural incli- 
nation for noticing those traits in the feelings and actions 
of men, which cause ludicrous emotions. Whatever may 
be the cause of it, there can hardly be a question as to the 
fact, that some possess this characteristick more than oth- 
ers ; — this was particularly true of Swift and Fontaine,,. 
Writers, who have a natural turn of this sort, will be more 
likely to excel in the humorous, than others. 

§. 337. Of the advantages of wit and humour. 

Wit and humour are not without some obvious benefits 

of no small value. (1) They serve to enlighten many 

hours, which without them would pass heavily along. Nor 
are they sources of pleasure merely. The mind, that con^ 
stantly rejects them, becomes by degrees reserved and* 
cheerless, and is greatly unfitted for social converse. Few 
minds can sustain the constant pressure of serious con- 
cerns. When occasionally employed with objects, which 
seem trifling, they afterwards enter witk more vigour into 
weighty matters, so that at times the good-natured relaxa- 
tions of humour and wit are not only pleasant, but neces- 
sary. 

(2) There is. also another benefit to be considered.^ 

They sometimes operate, as a seasonable check on many 
improprieties. It is these, indeed, which are the genuine 
occasions, that call them forth. And when considerably 
marked and important, the wit, which they call forth, is it 
most suitable rebuke. When it appears in that more bit- 
ter and imposing form, which we term ridicule and sarcasm, 
it keeps back some from offending, who can neither be e£- 



392 OF INSTINCTS. 

fectually checked by publick opinion, nor any internal 
moral restraints. Some, who are insensible to almost every 
thing else, cannot muster eourage enough to withstand the 
" world's dread laugh." 



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVENTH. 



OF INSTINCTS- 



§. 338. Of the meaning of the term instinct. 

It may be given as a definition of instinct, that it is a 
natural and invariable tendency to do certain things, with- 
out previous forethought and deliberation. — Instincts are 
found both in men, and in the inferiour animals | particu- 
larly in the latter, as they are furnished with the power of 
reasoning only in a very small, if in any degree. The in- 
stincts of animals, by means of which they are taught to 
employ their powers of offence and defence, and to which 
we can trace such ingenious results as the ball of the silk- 
worm, the house of the beaver, &c. are among the most 
pleasing parts of the study of natural history, Particularly 
so, because they strikingly illustrate the care of that Being, 
who assures us, that not a sparrow falls to the ground with- 
out his notice. By giving them instruments adapted to their 
situation, He has virtually given them food, and raiment, 
and barns, and houses. 

§. 339. Of instinctive feelings in the human species* 

Man, possessed of the power of comparing, abstracting, 
generalizing, and reasoning, does not stand in need of in- 
stincts to the degree, in which they are necessary to the 
brute creation. But, although tendencies of this kind 
are generally acknowledged to have an existence in the 
human species, it is not certainly agreed upon, how far 






or instincts. 395 

they exist, nor in what particular instances. This, howev- 
er, seems to be thought clear, that they are both fewer in 
number, and also more restricted in the degree of their 
power, than in the brute species. 

In making inquiries on the subject as to what are in- 
stinctive feelings in the human species, and what are not, 

two things should be kept in view. Instincts are to be 

considered as distinct from the automatick or mechanical 
actions of the bodily system, such as the contraction and 
dilatation of the chest and lungs in breathing by the 
motion of certain muscles. Automatick actions have a 
cause, but the cause is not in the mind, and is no part of 
the mental structure. They rise solely from the bodily 

mechanism. Further, instincts are to be distinguished 

from our natural appetites, and other mere animal feelings. 
Thus, hunger and thirst in a child are not instincts, but the 
disposition, which it exhibits in the earliest period of its ex- 
istence, to gratify those wants in a particular way, is justly 
thought instinctive. Accordingly, we may lay it down as 
a general statement, that while the appetites and some oth- 
er animal sensations imply a feeling of want ; instinct, in 
distinction from them, is the principle, which leads to their 
gratification. 

Some have thought, that there are instinctive feelings 
of a higher kind, than those, which lead men to relieve 
their animal wants ; such as the feelings of fear and resent- 
ment, the desires of wealth, and society, & knowledge, and 
power, also our benevolent and sympathetick feelings. 
Some of these supposed instinctive tendencies deserve a 
brief consideration. 

§. 340. Of the desire of society, 'power ', &c. as instinc* 
tivefeelings. 

The dosire of society has been reckoned among the ul- 
timate and instinctive principles of our nature. r J hfs, 
we imagine, cannot be done without violence to th« 
usual acceptation of language. An instinctive principle 
always has a particular object in view, and is borne jo*- 
50 



394 OF INSTINCTS. 

ward to that particular object without being counteracted^ 
The desire of society arises out of the circumstances of 
our situation ; men find themselves dependent on each 
other; and their enjoyment and security being promoted 
by entering into society, they are of course led to desire it. 
But let the mother flee into the wilderness, and nourish 
her child apart from all other human beings, and he will 
grow up wild, untractable, and like the son of Hagar, " his 
hand will be against every man's hand." This would not 
be, if the desire of society were an instinct, in the common 
acceptation of that term. 

The desire of knowledge has also been set up, as an< 

instinctive feeling. Men are led to seek knowledge, 

because they are unable to do without it. But having ac- 
quired so much of it as answers for their present turn, most 
men are quite satified with that. They do not find in 
themselves a strong and unappeasable tendency to make 4 
further acquisitions, which would be the case, if the desire 

of knowledge were instinctive. Similar objections may 

be made to the admission of the desire of power, as an in- 
stinctive principle. The passion is strong ; it makes its 
appearance at a very early period ; and if there be ground 
for considering it a natural passion, it is not, from that cir- 
cumstance merely, to be considered an instinct. It ought 
to be considered also, that this feeling, however early it 
may exist hid and nestling in the heart, is brought forward 
and cherished by the circumstances of our condition. Mara^ 
feels himself in want of various conveniences and enjoy- 
ments ; he imagines, if he had power, he could procure 
them ; but without it, he is unable to. He seeks power, 
therefore, in various ways, as a means of securing what he 
imagines, although perhaps very erroneously, the highest: 
degree of happiness. 

This feeling is often called forth and is greatly strength- 
ened in this way, although it is by no means impossible, 
that it may be loved for its own sake, independently of its 
aid in promoting one's personal enjoyments. The feel- 
ings, therefore, of fear, resentment, avarice, ambition, be- 
nevolence, justice, <fec. may be natural ; they may have 



OF INSTINCTS. 395 

<their origin in the human heart, however they may be 
modified by circumstances ; and, undoubtedly, all this is 
true of them. But after all they do not seem to be of that 
definite and invariable character; they have not that pre- 
cise and certain adaptation to particular ends, which would 
entitle them to be termed instincts. 

Instinct is much more clearly defined, and apparently 
more efficient in the inferiour animal creation, than in man ; 
it is here chiefly, that it is to be regarded, as an interest- 
ing and important subject of inquiry. In examining the 
intellectual economy of the human species, we find other 
principles of action, and such, as from their nature and 
important results, more strongly arrest our attention. 

4. 341. Marks of difference between instinct and reason. 

There are some characteristical differences between in- 
stinct and reason, worthy to be noticed. (1) Of these 

one is, that instinct requires no previous instruction. 

While reason expands and gathers strength by slow de- 
grees, advancing in childhood, and still advancing in ma- 
ture age, instinct may be said to be always full-grown, al- 
ways perfect. Accordingly it has been observed, that a 
bird, which has always been confined in a cage, will build, 
when suitable materials are furnished it, a nest precisely 
similar to those of its own kind in the woods. It requires 
no instruction, how to lay the sticks like the carpenter, nor 
where to mix in the clay like the mason, but shows very 
striking proofs of ingenuity without a long process of pre- 
vious training. 

(2) Another ground of difference is, that instinct is 
-more accurate in its results, than reason.- We have ref- 
erence here to the adaptation of means to an end ; and, 
consequently, the observation will apply only to those ca- 
ses, where both instinct and reason are employed in per- 
forming the same or similar things. A man may build his 
house too high or too low, he may lay the foundation well 
or ill, but in general there is no mistake in the construction 
of a bird's nest, or the cells of a bee. Reason, in the adap- 



3&G OF INSTINCTS. 

tation of means to an end, is liable to a thousand errours; 
but in instinct there is a sort of infallibility. The con- 
struction of a honey-comb indicates the greatest accuracy ; 
the cells are all regular hexagons; a form, which permits 
them all to be equal and similar, without any useless inter- 
stices; and for skill and precision throughout, it almost 
defies imitation. But this is the work of instinct. 

Again, instinct is limited, reason is' always progress- 
ive. However successful instinct may be in conducting 

its possessor to a particular end, its power is evidently lim- 
ited to that particular purpose. It is an impulse, implant- 
ed by the Creator, which carries forward the agent prompt- 
ly and unerringly to one end, and one only. It can oper- 
ate, it can be felt no further. But reason, although more 
liable to err, has a wider range ; it is applicable to a far 
greater variety of purposes ; and hardly having an exist- 
ence at iirst, it ultimately embraces the universe. 

§. 342. Of intellectual power in animals* 

Instinct is found frequently in brutes, seldom in men ; 
it operates very extensively among the former, in a very 
limited degree in the latter. So that when we consider 
the origin of this principle, as being directly from the Su- 
preme Being, we can almost subscribe to the maxim, Deus 

e*t brutorum anima. In connection with the subject of 

instinct in the inferiour animals, it is natural to take this 
opportunity to say something of the indications, which they 
give of intellectual power. While they are highly furnish- 
ed with instincts, they are not without some things, analo- 
gous to traits of intellect in the human race. Helvetius 
thought, that the superiority of intellect in man is to be 
ascribed solely to difference in corporeal organization, and 
to the influence of some adventitious circumstances in his 
outward condition. No doubt, there are advantages, in 
the conformation of the human system, for the exercise of 
intellectual power ; but the question is not so much what 
brutes might be with another, as what they actually are, 

with their present form. The inferiour animals have 

memory ; and it would seem from some facts, that some 



OF INSTINCTS. 3t>7 

have possessed this power in a remarkable degree. This 
is seen in the readiness, with which they retrace objects in 
an inverted order, as when a dog or horse returns by a 
road, over which he has passed only once, and at a consid- 
erable time distant. Animals possess the power of asso- 
ciation. — This is implied in their possessing memory, inas- 
much as association is a principal element in that complex 
mental state. Their associations, however, are chiefly 
those of contiguity in time and place ; but they are tena- 
cious, and not easily altered. It is chiefly by availing them- 
selves of this circumstance, that men are able to acquire 

and retain their dominion over them. Animals are 

thought by many to have the power of reasoning in a small 
degree. — Dogs and bears are learnt to dance and tumble 
by rewards for their obedience, and by chastisements for 
the contrary. They are supposed in such cases to reason 
in this way. " If I obey, I shall be caressed and fed ; If I 
do not, I shall be beaten ; it is, therefore, better to obey ;" — 
a regular syllogism. But all this, some will say, can be 
otherwise accounted for; viz. Obedience is associated with 
an idea of pleasure, and refusal to obey with the idea of 
pain. When this association is strong, the animal may be 
led to do what is imposed upon him without any logical 
deduction. — Mr. Locke thought, that brutes can reason, 
but in so doing are limited to particular ideas, not having 
the power of forming general or abstract ideas. Ani- 
mals have many of the passions, which are common among 
men, as shame, pride, revenge, gratitude. Some of them 
are capable of an attachment to men. A man will sooner 
cast off and injure his friend, than a dog betray a kind 
master. But there is no evidence, that they are influen- 
ced by moral impressions, or that they can discern between 
good and evil in conduct. 

§. 343. mictions from instinct not moral actions. 

If men were guided in all their actions by instinct, they 
would be no longer moral, but necessary agents. They 
would be urged forward with such directness and force, 



£98 OF INSTINCTS. 

that, while they infallibly obeyed, they could claim no mer- 
it for obedience. This is true, if we do not admit fear, am- 
bition, avarice, benevolence, &c. to be instinctive feelingsj 
and there are very few, who will not deny them the char- 
acter of instincts in the sense, in which we usually apply 
that term to animals. 

In order that man may be accountable, it seems to be 
necessary, that good and evil, that right and wrong should 
be set before him, with a liberty of choosing between them. 
Vv hen this is the case, there are motives influencing him to 
pursue one course, and opposite considerations operating 
upon him to pursue another ; and his moral rectitude, his 
merit or demerit will be known by the choice, which he 
makes under such circumstances. But in pure instincts 
there is no balancing of motives in this way ; and, conse* 
quently, no accountability, and no praise and blame. 



CHAPTER TWExNTY EIGHTH, 



THE WSLIi, eOHSCXEKTCE, &C- 



§. 344. Of volition and its objects. 

Volition is the determination of the mind to do or not 
to do something ; or it may be expressed more briefly by 

saying, that it is the determination or act of choice. It 

can be objected to this definition, that to describe volition, 
as a determination of the mind, or as an act of the mind, is 
merely to increase the list of terms, and to call the thing in 
question by another name. There is some ground for this 
objection ; but it will not have so much weight, when it is 
noticed, that the qualifying terms point out the nature of 
the act or determination ; viz. an act of the mind, in- refer- 



THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 39£ 

ence to which two things are compared together, and which 

gives the preference to one over the other, Further, it 

is to be kept in memory, that the simple acts of the mind 
do not readily admit of definitions, however convenient 
and desirable they may in some cases be. Something, it 
is true, can be said. But in order to have a clear notion 
of such simple acts, we ought to make them subjects of at* 
tentive reflection, as we find them to exist in ourselves. 
And, therefore, the above definition, although it be a de- 
fective one, will not be without its use, if we connect with 
it a careful observation of what takes place within us. Cer- 
tainly without such observation, no definition whatever 
can give a full idea of what is intended to be commu- 
nicated. 

The capability, which the mind has, of putting forth 
such a determination, of exercising choice, is commonly 
intended by the phrase, power or faculty of the will, 

and also by the will simply All acts of the will, that 

is, all volitions must have objects. A person cannot well 
exercise the act of willing, without having his mind direc- 
ted towards something, which is the object of his volition. 
To will without willing something, would be much the 
same, as to remenber without remembering something. 

§. 345. Nature and kinds of motives. 

As volition is found to exist only in certain circum- 
stances, it may, therefore, be considered an effect, and, con- 
sequently, must have a cause, which gives rise to it ; using 
the term, cause, in the sense heretofore explained, viz. as 
implying merely a regular and constant antecedence. The 
causes of volition are motives ; so that a motive may be 
defined to be any thing, which moves or excites the mind 
in putting forth volition. Without motives, that is, without 
some ground or reason of our choice, volition would never 
be exercised, and, consequently, there would never be vol- 
untary action, since a voluntary action implies, and is prece- 
ded by volition. 

Motives, in reference to their tendency to cause voll^ 



400 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 

tion are spoken of, as either weak or strong. That motive, 
which has a less degree of previous tendency to move the 
will, or, what is the same thing, appears the less inviting, 
as it is presented to the view of the mind, is called the 
weaker motive. On the contrary, that motive, which ap- 
pears to the mind the most inviting, and, therefore, has the 
greater tendency to move the will, is the stronger motive. 

The strength of a motive is found to vary in two ways, 

or from two causes. — (1) It will be found to vary, first, not 
only with the particular object, which is before the mind, 
but also with the attendant circumstances. Many things, 
which once appeared eminently desirable, and strongly in- 
fluenced our volitions, appear less desirable, and have less 
power over us, in consequence of being accidentally asso- 
ciated with other things, [n other instances, the effect is 

directly the reverse. (2) Things, that exist in the view 

of the mind, have their tendency to move the will increa- 
sed or diminished according to the nature and circumstan- 
ces of the mind, which views them. Thus, the same thing 
will appear differently to different individuals, and also to 
the same individual at different times. 

Motives, in reference to their origin, may be divided 
into two classes, internal, and external. By the in- 
ternal, we mean those, which are connected with our phys- 
ical organization, such as hunger, thirst, and bodily pains 
and enjoyments ; and also our passions or affections, wheth- 
er good or evil. Accordingly in all languages, people 
speak of being impelled, of being exciter) to action in these 
ways. By the external, we mean such as can be tra- 
ced to external causes, and exist in something without us. 
All external objects, which please or disgust us, operate 
upon us as motives. It is true, that they influence the will 
through the medium of the passions ; but as the influence ex- 
ercised may be traced to them, as the ultimate subjects of it, 
they may properly be termed the motive. As all external 
objects, which are not utterly indifferent, affect the will 
more or less, it is useless to attempt an enumeration of the 
motives from this source. In what way it happens, that 
certain appetites & pissions, or that certain external objects 



THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 481 

which appear to us pleasing and desirable, affect the will, 
and cause volition, cannot be explained. Nor can we 
give an explanation of any other instance of cause and ef- 
fect ; but of the truth of the fact, that the will is influenced 
by means of them, there is no room to doubt. 

§. 346. Of moral liberty in man. 

The volition will always be determined by the strongest 
motive ; in other words, the will always is, as the greatest 
apparent good, or as what appears most agreeable. To 
say otherwise would imply the direct contradiction, that 
the mind chooses, what it does not choose, and likes what it 
dislikes. Our voluntary actions correspond to our voli- 
tions ; that is, the action will be as the volition is ; and yet 
men under the circumstances stated, having their volitions 
in perfect correspondence with the motive, and the action 
agreeing with the volition, are justly said to act freely, or 
with liberty. But moral liberty, we apprehend, is not right- 
ly considered a quality or property of man, analogous to 
his other mental and physical qualities, but a privilege. 

If this be a correct notion, liberty, in its full extent, is 
the privilege of acting according to our wishes, without 
being subject to any restraint. This definition coincides 
very nearly with the concise explanation of it by the un- 
learned, who commonly say, that liberty consists in choosing 
and doing, as one pleases It will, indeed, be said, that 
there is an indissoluble relation between the volition and 
the motive. This is true. But the circumstance, that 
nothing can have the character of a motive independently 
of our feelings, and that the efficient or strongest motive is 
never at variance with them, takes away from this fixed and 
inflexible relation the attribute of constraint. 

Liberty, then, may be predicated of man in two re- 
spects, viz. liberty of will, and liberty of external, action. 

As to the will, it may be said, that it always has liber- 
ty, is always free, using the terms in accordance with the 
above definition. When a person, looking upon a number 
of objects, makes choice of one in preference to another, 
51 



402 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 

he does it agreeably to his wish or inclination, and has the 
highest possible liberty ; we can conceive of no greater. 
As, therefore, there is an inseparable connection between 
the volition, and the preference or the strongest desire of 
the heart, it is safe to assert, that there is no constraint on 
the volition, and that the will is always free. In support 
of the fact, that the volition, whatever its relation to the 
motive, is in the same direction with the preponderance of 
inclination, an appeal may be made to the common expe- 
rience of men ; and it can hardly be doubted, that on ex- 
amination every one will find it confirmed by what takes 
place in himself. If they do not find this to be the case? 
they will find, that the will is not always conformed to the 
strongest motive, which will lead to plain contradictions, 
if the terms are used in the sense here attached to them. 

There is also liberty of external actions. But while 

we say, that there is liberty in this respect, it cannot be de- 
nied, that it is subject to contingencies, which do not ex- 
ist in relation to the freedom of volitions. In other words, 
the freedom of external actions is sometimes from various 
causes interrupted. For instance, a person has a desire to 
go to a certain place ; he exercises volition or wills to go 
to that place; and the means, by which his determination 
is to be eSected, is the motion of his feet. If there be 
nothing to prevent this motion, then his actions are free, as 
well as his will ; but if he be bound or shackled, then 
there is a constraint, a deprivation of freedom, in respect 
to the action. And it is the same in all analogous cases. 
There may be a freedom in the volition, while there is a con- 
straint and hinderance in the performance ; so that neces- 
sity can be predicated of external actions, but no neces- 
sity analogous to that, which is predicated of actions, can be 
predicated of the mental resolve. But in all outward actions, 
where such necessity truly exists, men are not accountable. 

Note. — Tlie view of libeny above given seems to coincide essentially with 

that ol'M. Destutt-Tracy. He has the following remarks ; "Je tiis que V idee 

d e liberie nail de faculte de vouloir ; car, avec Locke, j' entends par liberie la 
puissance d' executer sa volonte, d 1 agir cuoformement a son desir ;' et je sou- 
tiens, qu' ii est impossible d' ettacher utie idee nette a ce mot, qaund on Veutl 
lui d'onner un autn serj? ; " ({Siemens d 1 Ideologic, part 4 et 5, p. 99 2d. ed.) 



403 

The responsibility rests with that extraneous force, whatever 
its origin, which makes the action contrary to the intention. 
The action does not properly belong to the subject of it ; 
but to that power, which forced the subject to act contrary 
to his own wishes. 

§. 347. Of the liberty of the Supreme Being. 

The checks, which are assigned to men's actions, the 
limits, which are there placed, cannot fail to remind them of 
their weakness and insufficiency. But their desires are 
boundless, their views of good and evil are wide and con- 
tinually progressing ; and their volitions invariably fall in 

with their views and desires. We are so constituted, 

that we will or exercise choice, in reference to the last re- 
suit of an examination ; that is, the volition coincides with 
the present view or inclination. It is the great excellency 
of our nature, and the consummation of our freedom, that 
the mind does not remain unmoved under such circumstan- 
ces ; and that it is not without a preference, when it has 
clearly before itself a view of the highest good or evil. So 
that our condition in this respect seems to be essentially 
the same with that of the Supreme Being himself. It is 
evident, that there is no being more free and perfect than 
God ; and yet he is inevitably governed in all his doings 
by what, in the great range of events, is wisest and best. 
His fixed and invariable principles of action are wisdom 
and goodness ; and whatever he does, is in accordance 
with them. So that it may be said, that the Deity himself 
has his laws ; and surely the weak mind of man cannot 
presume to be more free and unrestrained, than that of 
the God, who made it.— — Any other liberty than this can- 
not well be supposed to exist. "If (says Mr. Locke) to 
break loose from the conduct of reason, and to want that 
restraint of examination and judgment, that keeps us from 
doing and choosing the worse, be liberty, madmen and 
fools are the only free men. Yet I think nobody would 
choose to be mad, for the sake of such liberty, but he that 
is mad already." 



404 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 

§. 348. Evidence from observation of influence over our 
volitions. 

There is proof from observation, that our volitions are 
influenced by motives, or that our actions will be agreeably 
to what we consider the highest good. That is, in our in- 
tercourse with men, we cannot help observing, that they 
act precisely, as they would do, if this were the case; and, 
therefore, we conclude it to be so. So evident is it from 
what we observe around us, that the will, as well as the 
imagination, and memory, and other mental powers, has its 
laws, as to have elicited the remark, that a certain regular 
order may be traced in the conduct of men, analogous to 
the regular course, which we observe in the physical world. 
It can be pronounced, that men will act in a particular way 
in given circumstances with hardly less confidence, than 
that trees will grow in a given situation. So that there is 
a general course of nature applicable to the mind of man, 
as well as to external material things ; and not less appli- 
cable to the moral, than the intellectual part of his spirit- 
ual constitution. But if we take away the influence of 
motives, if we say that men are not governed by what ap- 
pears to them the highest good ; then this regularity is 
marred, the moral order and beauty of nature are broken 
up, and it will be impossible to form any opinion of the 
probable course of men, although we may be well acquaint- 
ed with the minutest circumstances of their situation. 

§. 349. Encouragements to the making of moral efforts* 

The fact, that men ajre influenced and directed by the 
motives set before them, is an encouragement in the making 
of moral efforts, and in the use of such means, as are adap- 
ted to reclaim the vicious, or to strengthen habits of vir- 
tue. When men go astray, what can we do more in our 
attempts at reclaiming them, than apply promises, threat- 
ening, and exhortations'? We address these to them as 
motives, expecting that they will be received, and have their 
influence as such. These are the means, which we em- 



THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C, 405 

ploy, and we find that they meet with success. But liber- 
ate the will from all particular tendencies and law ; show 
that we are utterly unable to predict the nature of its acts 
under all circumstances whatever, and then there is no en_ 
couragement to apply means for the attainment of moral 
ends ; there is no encouragement to moral efforts of any 
kind. When this is the case, we can never tell what is 
suitable to be addressed ip men, in order to induce them 
to change their course of conduct. 

§. 350. M motives are modifications of our ownfeelings. 

The greater the consideration, which is bestowed upon 
the nature of motives, the clearer the insight, it is suppo- 
sed, there will be into the correctness of these opinions* 
It is an essential attribute of every motive, that it be some- 
thing, which, as it is viewed by the mind, is agreeable to it. 
There may be different degrees in the pleasing quality, 
which it possesses, but it can never be wholly wanting in 
elements of an agreeable nature. The origin of the agree- 
ableness of that class of motives, which was termed inter- 
nal motives, is evidently in the mind itself. Hunger and 
thirst and other appetites, revenge and charitable impulses 
and other passions and desires do not operate upon us, and 
direct the will, and, consequently, the action, in conse- 
quence of any thing extraneous to ourselves, and out of 
our constitution. As to motives of this kind, therefore, if 
there be any constraint, it must be in our own breasts, in 
ourselves, in the natural impulses of our own intellectual 
economy. But it is evident, that such constraint as this 
cannot be at variance with any rational idea of the highest 
liberty. 

If then we look again at external motives, we shall be 
led to the same result. All objects and actions are utterly 
destitute of character, as far as men are concerned, when 
they are regarded, as existing independently of their own 
minds. Abstracted from those internal emotions, of which 
they are the cause, they are all equally good and bad, equal- 
ly beautiful and ugly, equally sublime and ludicrous, equal- 



A06 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 

ly indifferent. It is our own feelings, therefore, reflected 
back upon all external objects of whatever kind, which in- 
fuse into them their qualities of excellence. This charac- 
ter of excellence, this pleasing attribute in its turn oper- 
ates upon the mind. All motives, therefore, are, either 
directly or indirectly, our own feelings. They differ from 
each other not in their nature, but in being variously modi- 
fied. And, hencej to assert, that the soul is governed by 
motives, is much the same as to say, that it is governed by 
itself. It is like the citizens of a free republick ; it is not 
without law, but it obeys no enactments, but such as are 
agreeable to its own choice. 

§. 351. Of moral motives. 

Whatever is beautiful and interesting in nature may, in 
certain circumstances, operate upon us as a motive. In- 
citements or motives may be found also in whatever is beau- 
tiful or interesting in moral . conduct. Accordingly, enco- 
miums have been often lavished on the excellence of 
virtue, and men have been earnestly invited to love and 
to obey it. Hence, we are led to remark upon virtue, 
upon merit and demerit, upon moral obligation, &c. ; in 

other words, we are to consider moral motives.- And 

this, in short, is to inquire, why man, regarded, as an ac- 
countable being, is bound to do any one thing in prefer- 
ence to another. 

§. 352. Virtue and vice in agents, not in actions. 

And in order to clear the way to this inquiry, it is to be 
noticed, in the first place, that actions, in themselves con- 
sidered, have no character. It is true, that we speak of 

actions, as good or bad, as virtuous or vicious, as worthy of 
praise or of censure. It is from our very constitution im- 
possible to behold actions of moment coming from our 
fellow beings, without having certain vivid feelings, which 
lead us to speak of them, as right or wrong, worthy or un- 
worthy. But if we analyze our feelings, if we accu- 
rately consider what it is, to which we apply these epi- 



THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 407 

thets, we shall come to the conclusion, that by actions,, 
as the subjects of moral merit or demerit, is meant 
the agent acting. The action is nothing, except so far 
as it is significant of certain mental qualities , and, there- 
fore, virtue considered as distinct from the virtuous person, 
and vice, as distinct from the vicious person, have no exis- 
tence. There is no virtue or vice, merit or demerit, a par- 
te rei or independently of the agent, any more than there 
is a beauty or sublimity of that character. 

§. 353. True import of the terms, virtue and vice, merit 
and demerit. 

And yet it remains to be stated, in what way such terms 
may be employed consistently with truth, and without 
causing misconception.- Observe then, that certain ac- 
tions, that is, certain agents in acting, excite in us emo- 
tions of approval, and others, on the contrary, cause emo- 
tions of disapprobation. Certain actions, therefore, are 
made, from our very constitution, to sustain a particular 
relation to certain emotions or intellectual states. The 
relation, which exists between actions and emotions of dis- 
approval, is expressed by the terms, demerit, and vice ; — the 
relation, which exists between other actions and emotions 
of approval, is expressed by the terms, merit, and virtue. 

Virtue and vice, merit and demerit, therefore, inasmuch 
as they are the mere relations existing between the thing 
approved and the approving mind, are evidently nothing 
self-existing, like the ' universal essences of the Schools,' 
or the ' eternal ideas ' of Plato. At most they can only be 
considered a felt relation ; and, therefore, can never exist 
abstracted from and independently of the agent. But 
while we are willing to allow them an existence only as 
relations, we are ready to concede, that in this sense there 
is permanent and immutable distinction between them. 
That is, whatever actions are generally approved by men 
can never be otherwise than approved by them, while their* 
mental constitution remains the same, as at present. On 
the other hand, whatever actions are generally disappro- 



408 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C, 

ved, can never be otherwise, while the same constitution 
remains. Vice can never become virtue ; virtue can never 

become vice. And this interesting truth will appear the 

more impressive, when we consider, that the permanency 
and immutability of the distinction between virtue and vice 
have their origin in the Supreme Being himself. It is He, 
that has ordained, that certain actions shall cause certain 
emotions, that some things shall be approved and others 
not ; it is He, that has instituted the relation, which exists 
between the deed, which is performed, and the feeling, 
which responds to it. As He was governed by the highest 
wisdom in so doing, we may well conclude, that there is a 
permanency in moral distinctions no less lasting, than the 
divine nature. 

§. 354. Of moral obligation and conscience. 

But something remains to be said as to the particular 
inquiry, Why men are bound to do one thing in preference 

to another, — Why they are under moial obligation 9 

It has sometimes been given, as a definition, that moral 
obligation is that, by which we are bound to perform that, 

which is right, and avoid that, which is wrong. Tfyere 

have been various opinions concerning the ground of moral 
obligation, or what it arises from. One ascribes it to the 
moral fitness of things ; another finds it in the decisions of 
reason ; another in expediency, and in the promotion of 
the publick good ; another in Revelation. But after hear- 
ing these and other solutions of the ground of moral obli- 
gation, the question still returns, Why does a regard for 
the publick good, or a belief in Revelation, or the conclu- 
sions of reason render it right for me to do a particular ac- 
tion, and wrong not to ? When such a question is put to 
us, we find ourselves driven back upon the feelings of ©ur 
own hearts. Our Creator, in forming us with a suscepti- 
bility of emotions of approval or disapproval, has furnished 
us with a guide in the discharge of our duties to Him, to 
our fellow beings, to ourselves. Without this susceptibil- 
ity, which under another name is called conscience, men 
would feel no regret and compunction even in disobeying 



THE WILL, CQ^ SCIENCE, &G. 4180 

the express commands of God himself. Without this sus- 
ceptibility, it would be all the same, whether they regard- 
ed or disregarded the most affecting calls of charity and of 
the publick good. Without this, benevolent intercourse 
would cease ; religious homage would be at an end ; the 
bonds of society would be loosed and dissolved. The true 
source, then, of moral obligation is in the natural impulses 
of the human breast; — in a man's own conscience. It is 
in this, that we find the origin of the multitude of moral 
motives, thit are continually stirring up men to worthy 
and exalted enterprizes. This is the law, which governs 
them ; and as it is inseparable from that nature, of which 
the Supreme Being is the author, it is the law of God. 

§. 355. Want of uniformity in our moral judgments* 

But here some difficulties are to be considered. It has 
often been objected to the doctrine, which attributes our 
moral judgments and moral obligation to an original sus- 
ceptibility, that there is too great a want of uniformity in 
the results of such alleged susceptibility. Dr. Paley seems 
to have thought, that there is great weight in this objec- 
tion. His views are given in connection with the follow- 
ing narration, which he has translated from Valerius Max- 
imus. The father of Caius Toranius had been proscri- 
bed by the Triumvirate* Caius Toranius coming over to 
the interests of that party, discovered to the officers the 
place, where he concealed himself, and give them withal 
a description, by which they might distinguish his person, 
when they found him. The old man more anxious for the 
fortunes and snfety of his son, than about the little, that 
might remain of his own life, began immediately to inquire 
of the officers, who'seized him, Whether his son was well, 
Whether he had done his duty to the satisfaction of his gen- 
erals ? That son, replied one of the officers, so dear to 
thy affections, betrayed thee to us ; by his information thou 
art apprehended and diest. The officer with this struck a 
poniard to his heart, and the unhappy parent fell, not so 
much affected by his fate, as by the means to which [hs 
nwed it,-- — The advocates of an original susceptibility of 
52 



410 THE- WILL, CONSCIENCE, <kc. 

moral emotions maintain, that if this story were related to 
the most ignorant and degraded Savage, to one, who had 
been cut off from infancy from intercourse with his fellow- 
men, he would at once exhibit disapprobation of the con- 
duct of Toranius, and pity and respect for his father. Dr. 
Palsy, inasmuch as he discountenanced the notion of a na- 
tural conscience, and of original judgments of virtue and 
vice, has given, at some length, the arguments of those, who 
deny this result. Following the suggestions of our own 
feelings, we cannot help thinking with those, who hold, 
that the Savage would have sentiments favourable to the 
father, and against the son ; provided that the Savage were 
made acquainted with the relation between them, and 
with the nature and degree of the acts of kindness, which 
are ab\ays implied in the history of those, who sustain the 
parental relation. Unless he were made to understand 
this, his decision, whatever it might be, would be irrelevant 
to the present inquiry. 

Dr. Paley and those, who think with him, remind us, 
that theft, which is punished by most laws, was not unfre- 
quently rewarded by the laws of Sparta. We are remind- 
ed also of the cruelty exercised by Savages upon their 
prisoners taken in war, and of the appalling fact, that in 
some countries aged and infirm parents have been cast out 
by their children, and exposed to a sure and lingering 
death. Now, in reference to these facts, we readily admit, 
that, in consequence of some accidental circumstances, 
moral distinctions have sometimes been neglected or over- 
ruled in civilized communities. Nor can it be denied, that 
some Savage tribes, debased by want and ignorance, have 
given instances of injustice and cruelty of the most shock- 
ing nature. But we cannot readily see, how these few ex- 
ceptions disprove the general rule ; although they are un- 
doubtedly exceptions to it. The general statement, that 
men are originally susceptible of moral emotions, is con- 
firmed by the experience, and testimony, and conduct of 
millions and millions of mankind. The great mass of the 
human race, amid all the differences of climate and gov- 
ernment, and local institutions and, observances, pronounce, 



*SB WJLLj CONSCIENCE, &*. 4 It 

with the most evident uniformity, on the excellence of 
some actions, and on the iniquity of others. Reasoning, 
therefore, in this case, as we do in others, we cannot admit 
the discordant voice of some depraved individual, or the 
accidental moral obliquities, which have at times pervaded 
some civilized communities, or the testimony of the savage 
and ignorant inhabitants of a remote island, as disproving 
what is evidently the unanimous declaration of all the 
world besides. They prove, that the original susceptibil- 
ity of moral emotions may be weakened and perverted, but 
that is all. They show, that conscience may be misguid- 
ed by accidental circumstances, or that its influence may 
be blunted and annulled, but they are vainly brought to 
show, that conscience has no existence. 

§. 356. Conscience sometimes perverted by passion. 

Admitting the fact, that the moral susceptibility may 

sometimes be blunted and perverted, something more 

seems to be necessary, viz., That we should briefly state, 

under what circumstances, or from what causes, this takes 

place. And, in the first place, the due exercise of this 

susceptibility, or what is otherwise termed conscience, may 
be perverted, when a person is under the influence of vio- 
lent passions. -The moral emotion, which under other 

circumstances would have arisen, has failed to arise in the 
present instance, because the soul is intensely and wholly 
-taken up with another species of feeling. But after the pres- 
ent passion has subsided, the power of moral judgments 
returns ; the person, who has been the subject of such vio- 
lence of feeling, looks with horror on the deeds, which 
he has committed. So that the original susceptibility, 
which has been contended for, cannot justly be said to 
cease to exist in this instance; although its due exercise 
is prevented by the accidental circumstance of inordinate 

passion. Further ; those, who imagine, that there are 

no permanent moral distinctions, because they are not re- 
garded in moments of extreme passion, would do well to 
consider, that at such times persons are unable rightly U 
apprehend any truths whatever. A murderer, when draw- 



4:1% THE WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C 

ing the blade from the bosom of his victim, probably could 
not tell the quotient of sixteen divided by four, or any 
other simple results in numbers ; but certainly his inability 
to perceive them under such circumstances does not. annul 
numerical p >wers and distinctions. Why then should the 
game inability take away moral distinctions ? 

§, 357, Complexity in actions a source of confusion in 
our moral judgments, 

A second reason, why men, although they are under 
the guidance of an original susceptibility, do not always 
form the same judgments of actions, is to be found in their 

complexity. We have already seen, that actions are 

nothing of themselves, independently of the agent. In 
forming moral judgments, therefore, we are to look at 
the agent; an J we are to regard him, not only as willing 
and brin ;in j to pass certain effects, but we are to consider 
him also as the subject of certain desires and intentions; 
and we are unable rightly to estimate these, without taking 
into view various attendant circumstances, [n some cases 
the intention is obvious; and in these the judgment is rea- 
dily formed. But in other cases, the results are complex; 
they are a mixture of good and evil ; and hence arises a 
difficulty in ascertaining the true intention and design of 
the agent. When different individuals are called upon to 
judge of an instance of this kind, they will be not unlikely 
to give their attention to different circumstances, or they 
may have different views of the same circumstances, con- 
sidered as indications of feeing and intention. This being 
the case, tie judgments, which they will pass, will in effect 
be pronounced upon different things, inasmuch as they 
will have such difference of views. Hence in a multitude 
of actions, there will be sufficient reason for a diversity of 
moral sentiments, where by superficial observers a perfect 

uniformity may have been expected. These remarks 

throw some light upon the supposed approbation of theft 
among the Spartans. This people were trained up by 
their political institutions to regard property as of little 
yalu© ; their lands were equally divided ; they ate at public 



THE WI£X, €O.NSCXB2ff€£, &,C. 415 

tables ; and the great end of all their civil regulations was 
to lender the citizens athletick, active, patient, and brave. 
Every thing else was considered subordinate. The per- 
mission, which was given to the Spartan lads to steal, was 
a part of the publick regulations. It was a sort of tax, 
which the citizens voluntarily imposed upon themselves, in 
order to encourage vigilance, endurance, and address in 
the younger part of the community ; and hence, when they 
were detected immediately after the theft, they were se- 
verely punished for deficiency of skill. Accordingly the 
theft, which was permitted and approved by the Spartans 
was a very different thing from what goes under that name 
with us. The mere act may have been the same, but there 
was no Correspondence in the results and attendant cir- 
cumstances, and in the degree of evil intention. Simi- 
lar inquiries in other instances will go far in explaining 
many apparent deviations from the permanent distinctions 
between vice and virtue, and reduce the number of cases 
of supposed want of uniformity in moral sentiments. 

$. 358. Influence, of early associations on moral 
judgments. 

Our moral judgments, in the third place, are some- 
times perplexed and perverted by means of early associa- 
tions. The principle of association does not operate 

upon the moral capacity directly ; it operates indirectly, 
with considerable influence. When a particular action is 
to be judged of, it calls up, in the mind of different indi- 
viduals, different and distinct series of accessory circum- 
stances. This difference in the tendencies of the suggest- 
ing principle can hardly fail to have considerable effect in 
modifying the sentiment of approbation or disapprobation, 
resulting from the consideration of any particular action. 

^-Savage life gives us an illustration of this. Owing 

to the peculiar situation of those in that state and the con- 
sequent early associations, a factitious and exaggerated 
importance is attached to mere courage ; and gentleness, 
equanimity, and benevolence, are, as virtues, proportionally 
depressed. When vices are committed by near friends 



414 THJB WILL, CONSCIENCE, &C. 

by a brother, or a parent, they dp not excite in us such ab- 
horrence, as in other cases. Our prepossessions in favour 
of the persons, who have committed the crime, suggest a 
thousand circumstances, which seem to us to alleviate its 
aggravation. We frame for them a multitude of plausi- 
ble excuses, which we should not have thought of doing, 
had it not been for the endearments and intercourse of our 
previous connection. 

While we contend, therefore, for an original suscepti- 
bility of moral emotions, it must be admitted, that its de- 
cisions are sometimes perverted by the violence of momen- 
tary passion ; the uniformity of its decisions is interrupted 
also by complexity in the action and a complication of 
good and evil in the results ; and some partial and erron- 
eous judgments may be attributed to the influence of as- 
sociation. To these causes are to be ascribed those instan- 
ces of striking deviation from moral rectitude, which the 
opposers of an original susceptibility of moral emotions, are 
fond of bringing up. Those instances, we apprehend, do 
siot disprove the existence of the susceptibility, but merely 
show, that it is sometimes liable to perversions. 

§. 359. "Of enlightening ike conscience. 

It clearly follows from the views, which have been ta- 
ken, that the moral susceptibility will operate with the 
greater readiness and efficiency, in proportion as (he 
knowledge of ourselves and of our relations to other beings 
is increased. And the knowledge to be acquired with this 

end may be stated in some particulars. (1) As the 

Being who gave us life, has given us conscience, and, con- 
sequently could not intend, that conscience should act in 
opposition to himself, it seems to be an indispensable duty, 
that men should be acquainted with his character. His 
character and will are made known in those works, of 
which He is the author, and in the Scriptures. If we 
have right views of the Supreme Being, and of the re- 
lation, which we sustain to Him, our conscience will 
infallibly approve what he has enjoined, and disapprove 
what h« has forbidden. (2) Inasmuch as it results 



from the relation, which we sustain to the Supreme Be- 
ing, that the decisions of conscience are not, and can- 
not be at variance with his laws, but will agree with 
them, whenever they are made known, it follows, that 
all should be acquainted with the moral and religious pre- 
cepts, which he has communicated to us. To every mind, 
that has proper views of the self-existence of God and of 
our dependence upon Him, it will be enough to justify any 
action, that He has said it. The mere disclosure of his 
will cannot but render, in all cases, an action approved in 
the sight of conscience, whatever may be our ignorance 
of the consequences connected with it. 

(3) As all duties, which truly result from the relations, 
which we sustain to our fellow beings, are expressions of the 
will of God, \\e are to consider what he requires us to per* 
form in respect to our immediate circle, to the poor and the 
sick, to our neighbourhood, and to society in general. Our 
feelings in respect to th»> performance of such duties can- 
not be so clear and vivid, if we exclude the Supreme Being 
from our consideration of them, as they would otherwise be. 
(4) Since the decisions of conscience are often great- 
ly perverted by the undue influence of passion, men should 
both gu ird against the recurrence of passionate feelings 
in general ; and when at any time they have reason to sus- 
pect themselves of being under the influence of such pas- 
sion, the decision on the merits or demerits of any particu- 
lar action ought to be put oft' to a more favourable period. 
Nor are we less to guard against prejudices, — the prejudi- 
ces in favour of friends, and against those, whom we may 
imagine to have injured us, the prejudices of sects, politi- 
cal parties, &c. ; for they often give the mind a wrong 
view of the action, upon which it is to judge. Also when 
actions are complex, either in themselves or their results, 
the greater care is requisite in properly estimating them. 

^. 360. Of guilt when a person acts conscientiously. 

The question has sometimes been started, Whether a per- 
son is in any case to be considered as guilty and to b« 



416 THE WILL, CONSCIENCE. &C 

punished for actions, done conscientiously ; for instance 
when certain ignorant Savages are supposed to act con- 
scientiously in putting their infirm and aged parents to 

death. Undoubtedly, in many cases, where people act 

conscientiously, there is great guilt. And the reason of it 
is evident. We have seen, that conscience, is in some 
measure under our control ; it may be enlightened ; it may 
be strengthened ; or it may be greatly weakened, and in 
some cases be made to approve of actions of the most un- 
worthy and sinful kind. Men, therefore, are to have a 
right conscience; this great and exalting principle is to 
receive, and ought to receive the very first attention ; and 
they are accountable, whenever it is neglected. Other- 
wise we furnish a very easy and convenient excuse to the 
iniquitous perpetrators of all the cruelties of the Inquisi- 
tion, of all the persecutions of the Protestants, of all the 
acts of unkindness and tyranny, which have ever been ex- 
ercised upon individuals and communities. And the 

position, that men are accountable and guilty for having 
a wrong conscience in proportion to their means of knowl- 
edge, holds good in respect to the most ignorant and degra- 
ded Savage tribes, as well as in respect to civilized nations. 
It is true, no individual ought to assume the province of judg- 
ing, what that degree of guilt is ; for no one is competent 
to it. All, that is meant to be asserted, is, that when per- 
sons feel an emotion of approval in doing wrong, (that is, 
in doing what is condemned by the general moral senti- 
ments of mankind, and by the written law of God ;) and yet 
have within their reach neglected sources of knowledge, 
which on being laid open to the mind, would have caused 
different feelings, they are criminal for such neglect of the 
information before thern, and, consequently, cannot under 
such circumstances be rendered otherwise than criminal 
by any internal approbation. 



417 
CHAPTER TWENTY NINTH. 



THE PASSIONS. 



$. 361. Various significations of the term, passion* 

The term, passion, originally means suffering ; this 
meaning is strictly conformable with its etymology from 
the Latin patior. It is employed in this sense, when 
in some Writers we are told of the ' Saviour's passion.' 
* -Again, it implies in some instances a strong pre- 
diction, a sort of enthusiastick fondness for particular 
srts, or pursuits. We say, that a person has a passion 
for musick, or for painting ; or that he is passionately 
fond of gardening or of some diversions.* — ^-Agairt, 
the word in question has another meaning ; implying what 
we otherwise express by the word, anger. It is said of a 
man, that he is in a passion ; that is, he is angry. 

As the term, passion, is used here and in what follows, it 
denotes a state of mind, of which some simple emotion 
is always a part, but which differs from any single simple 
emotion, in being combined with some form of the gen- 
eral feeling of desire. In consequence of this com- 
plexity, the passions have a character of permanency, 
which is not found to belong to any separate emotions. It 
is not easy to assign a distinction between the passions and 
affections ; the terms are here used as synonymous. 

§. 362. Of the passion of love. 

tn pursuing the examination of this subject, we are 
first to consider that class of our complex and permanent 
feelings, to which we give the name of love. There are 
many modifications or degrees of this passion, — the mere 
preference of regard and esteem, the warmer glow of friend- 
ship, and the increased feeling of devoted attachment*. 
*There are not only differences in degree, the passion it- 
*3 



418 THE PASSION*. 

self seems to be modified, and to be invested with a*different 
aspect, according to the circumstances, in which it is found 
to operate. The love, which we feel for our friends, is 
different from that, which we feel for a parent or brother ; 
and both are different from that, which we feel for our 
country. But it is impossible to convey in words the pre- 
cise distinctions, which may justly be thought to exist both 
in kind and degree. Such an attempt would only in- 
volve the subject in greater confusion. 

Nor could we expect to succeed much better in giving » 
a definition of the passion in general. Every one must be 
supposed to be acquainted with it from his own experience, 
to know what it is to love parents, and friends, and coun- 
try ; and we must, therefore, refer to that experience for a 
better idea of it, than can be conveyed by language. The 
difficulty here is precisely the same as that in explaining by 
words the simple ideas from the senses. The sweetness 
of honey or of sugar, the smell of the violet and of the rose, 
are better known by these mere names, than by any des- 
cription or definition. When we merely name the sensa- 
tions, we virtually refer back the individual to his own ex- 
perience ; and when this is done, the necessity of a formal 
and necessarily an imperfect definition is superseded. 

Without undertaking, therefore, to give any thing in 
the shape of a, precise and accurate definition of the 
passion, we may say something further, which shall give us 
some light into its nature, considered, as a part of the phys- 
iology of the human mind. The feeling is a complex 

one ; and we may disco ver in it at least two elements ; viz. 
an emotion of vivid delight in the contemplation of the ob- 
ject, and a desire of good to that object. Hence there 
will always be found in the object some quality, either 
some excellence in the form, or in the intellect, or in the 
moral traits, or in all combined, which is capable of exciting 
a pleasurable emotion. There is a pleasing emotion, ante- 
cedent to the desire of good to the object, which causes it ; 
but this happy feeling continues to exist, and to mingle with 
t fie subsequent kind desire. And there may be supposed 
f i be a constant action and reaction, — the desire of good in- 



THE PASSION!, 411 

creasing the strength of the pleasurable emotion, and the 
mere feeling of delight enhancing the benevolent desire. 

When the kind desire, which is one of the elements of 

love, is not excited merely in consequence of our having ex- 
perienced the antecedent pleasurable emotion, but in conse- 
quence of regarding that pleasurable emotion as indica- 
tive of qualities, to which the unalterable voice of nature 
pronounces, that our affections may be justly given, it is 
then a pure and exalting feeling. As to how far this pu- 
rity of feeling exists, there may undoubtedly be a differ- 
ence of opinion ; but just so far as it does, there is a glow 
of the heart, analogous to the devotional feelings of a high- 
er and happier state of being. 

§. 363. Of the passion of hatred. 

The passion of hatred is the opposite to that of love. 
And as the latter was found to be complex, the former also 
may be separated into opposite, though analogous ele- 
ments ; viz. an emotion of pain, and a desire of injury to the 

object or cause of the painful feeling. For a correct 

notion of this passion, as well as of its opposite, we must 
resort to our own experience. — Some have maintained, that 
the malevolent affections, in the present condition of 
the world, are necessary and commendable ; that without 
them frauds and oppressions would come boldly forth into 
the great community of mankind. It cannot be denied, 
that a spirit of watchfulness and of retribution is necessary ; 
but it is not so evident, that there is need of malevolence. 
The Supreme Being is a sovereign, who does not grant im- 
punity to sin ; but he is represented as correcting with the 
feelings of a parent, and as anxious for the good of those, 
who have subjected themselves to his chastisements. 

§. S64. Of sympathy. 

Sympathy, by the common use of language, implies an 
interest in the welfare of others, and may be considered in 
two respects, being either an interest in their joy, or an 
interest in their sorrow. The sympathetick man falls in 



420 THE PASSIOJCS. 

with the requisition of Scripture, rejoicing with those, who 
rejoice, and weeping with those, who weep. His heart 
kindles up with happiness at beholding the happy, and he 

sheds the tear for the miserable. But that sympathy, 

which rejoices with the rejoicing, is only one of the forms 
of love. In an analysis of our passions, it is entitled to no 
separate place. Like love it is a feeling of delight, com- 
bined with benevolent desires towards the object of it. It 
is only the sympathy for sorrow, which can have a distinct 
consideration in the list of our passions. 

Some have thought, that sympathy for sorrow is only a 
modification of love ; but we may discover a difference 
between them. We can sympathize in the griefs of those, 
in whom we are abje to discern no pleasing qualities, and 
even with those, who are positive objects of hatred. We 
leave it to the feelings of any one to determine, Whether, if 
he saw even his enemy perishing with hunger in a dungeon, 
or his limbs broken on the rack, hp would not harbour a 
relenting emotion, and be glad at his rescue % If so, sym- 
pathy for grief is different from love, for we may sympa- 
thize with those, whom we do not, and cannot love ; and, 

consequently, it is to be considered a distinct passion. 

As the passion of love is a feeling of delight, combined 
with the desire of good to the object of it, and hatred 
is the opposite of it, being a painful emotion, attended 
with a desire of injury ; so the sympathy of grief seems to 
agree in some respects with both, and to disagree in other 
respects. It includes a painful emotion, as in hatred, and 
a desire of good or of relief to the object of it, as in love. 
The painful emotion, which is a port of the complex feel- 
ing of sympathy, does not differ from the simplest form 
of sadness ; and is probably the same feeling, although 
in a less degree, with the sorrow of the person, in whose 
behalf our sympathetick interest is enlisted. 

The laws of association appear to have somewhat to do 
in calling our sympathies into existence. When we be- 
hold the contortions of countenance in one, who is in suf- 
fering, they become signs to us of what we ourselves have 
suffered. And as such, they effectually revive the idea 



TUB PASSIONS. 421 

of our own past distresses ; no less than the word, which 
is a mere arbitrary sign, calls up the thought. But the laws 
of association furnish us with but one element of sympathet- 
ick feeling. When we have this feeling, there is not only 
an emotion of grief, but the soul, regardless of itself, min- 
gles in the fortunes of another, in a way which all can un- 
derstand, but which is very imperfectly conveyed by call- 
ing it a desire for the relief of the sufferer. 

§. 365. Of anger. 

The passion of anger does not appear to differ essen- 
tially in its nature from that of hatred. When the painful 
emotion, and the desire of evil to the object of it, which 
are implied in hatred, arise suddenly and violently on the 
reception, or supposed reception of some injury, or from 
some other cause, if any can be imagined, the state of the 
mind is then called anger. That is to say, we suppose, 
anger is essentially the same with hatred, and differs 
from the ordinary forms of that passion chiefly in the cir- 
cumstance of great suddenness and violence. When 

the angry emotion is protracted, awaiting in all its power 
for some more favourable opportunity to show itself, it be- 
comes revenge. We speak of such feelings as revenge- 
ful. 

The precept of St. Paul, "Be ye angry, and sin not," 
(Eph. iv. 26.) reminds us, that this passion is liable to ex- 
ceed due limits, and also that we ought to cherish such 
considerations, as are likely to check and properly control 

its influence. When we are angry, we should consider, 

in the first place, that we may have mistaken the motives 
of the person, whom we imagine to have injured us. Per- 
haps the oversight or crime, which we alledge against him, 
was mere inadvertence. And it is possible, that his inten- 
tions were favourable towards us, instead of being, as we 
suppose, of a contrary character. (2) We should con- 
sider, secondly, that the indulgence of this passion on 
slight occasions renders us contemptible in the sight of all 
around us y it excites no pity, nothing but feelings of scorn ; 
and, therefore, instead of being a punishment to the cause 



4 22 THE FASSI0N3. 

or supposed cause of the affront, only increases our own 

misery. (3) Let it be remembered also, that when the 

mind is much agitated by this passion, it is incapable of 
correct judgment ; actions, considered as the indications of 
feeling and character, do not appear in their true light ; 
and the moral susceptibility is overborne and rendered use- 
less. The saying of Socrates to his servant, " I would beat 
you, if I were not angry," although uttered by a Heathen, 

is not unworthy of the Christian philosophy. (4) There is 

another consideration, which ought to prevent the indul- 
gence of this passion, and to allay its effects ; It is, that all 
have offended against the Supreme Being, and stand in 
need of pardon from Him. Every one, who knows his 
own heart, must see, and feel himself to be a transgressor. 
How pitiful is it, then, for man to talk largely of satisfac- 
tion and revenge, when he is every moment dependent on 
the clemency and forgiveness of a Being, whom he has 
disobeyed and dishonoured ! 

There is a species of anger, termed peevishness or fret- 
fulness, which often interrupts the peace and happiness 
of life. It differs from ordinary anger in being excited by 
very trifling circumstances, and in a strange facility of in- 
flicting its effects on every body, and every thing within 
its reach. The peevish man has met with some trifling 
disappointment, (it matters but little what it is,) and the 
serenity of whole days is disturbed ; no smiles are to be 
seen ; every thing, whether animate or inanimate, rational 
or irrational, is out of place, and falls under the rebuke 
of this fretful being. Genuine anger is like a thunder- 
shower, that comes dark and heavily, but leaves a clear 
sky afterwards. But peevishness is like an obscure, driz- 
zling fog ; it is less violent, and lasts longer. In general, 
it is more unreasonable and unjust, than violent anger, and 
would certainly be more disagreeable, were it not often, 
in consequence of being so disproportioned to its cause, 
irresistiblv ludicrous. 



THE PASSIONS. 42-7 

§. 36G. Of gratitude. 

As anger is but one of the forms of hatred, gratitude 
seems to be one of the forms of the general passion of 
love. — Like the last named passion, it includes an emotion 
of pleasure or delight, combined with a desire of good or a 
benevolent feeling towards the object of it. But we nev- 
er give the name of gratitude to this combination of pleas- 
ing and benevolent emotion, except it arise in reference to 

some benefit or benefits conferred. A great part of that 

strong feeling, which is exercised by children toward par- 
ents, is that species of love, which is termed gratitude* 
They think of them, not only as possessing many qualities, 
which are estimable and lovely in themselves ; but as fond 
and unm'earied benefactors. They cannot behold, without 
having their feelings strongly moved, their earnest disposi- 
tion to relieve their sufferings, to supply their wants, to en- 
hance their enjoyments. 

Different individuals exhibit considerable diversity in 
the exercise of grateful emotions. Some receive the fa- 
vours heaped upon them without exhibiting any visible re- 
turns of benevolent regard ; others are incapable of a passive 
reception of benefits, and are strongly affected, whenever 
they are conferred. This difference is probably owing in 
part to original diversities of constitution ; and is partly to 
be ascribed to wrong views of the characters and duties of 
mea, or to other adventitious circumstances. 

§. 367. Of pride. 

Pride is a consciousness or belief of some superiority 
in ourselves over others, attended with a desire, that oth- 
ers should be sensible of it. There are many modifica- 
tions of this, no less than of the other passions. When it 
is very officious, and makes an ostentatious display of those 
circumstances, in which it imagines its superiority to con- 
sist, it is termed vanity. When it discovers itself, not so 
much in the display of the circumstances of its superiority 
as in a contempt, and in sneering disparagements of the 



424 THE PASSIONS.* 

inferiour qualities of others, it is termed haughtiness or ar- 
rogance. If the above notion of pride be correct, this 

passion cannot exist without implying a comparison of our- 
selves with others. The proud, in making this comparison 
either are, or believe themselves to be superiour in some re- 
spect to others ; this superiority, they are desirous, should be 
made known, when there is evidently no reason for it, except 
what may be found in the peculiar state of their own feelings. 
This limitation should go with the definition, which has been 
given ; for there may not only be superiority and a con* 
sciousness of it without pride, but under certain eircum- 
tances, (perhaps when ignorance is to be enlightened, or 
turbulence is to be subdued, or lawless vice is to be awed,) 
there may be even a desire of making it known, and yet 
without the passion in question. 

The passion of pride is not limited to the possession of 
any one object or quality, or to any single circumstance 
or combination of circumstances. One is proud of his an- 
cestry; another of his riches, and a third of the beauty of 
his dress or person. It is the same feeling in the statesman, 
and the jockey ; in the leader of armies, and the hunter of 
hares and foxes ; in the possessor of the princely palace, 

and of the well-wrought cane or snuff-box. Some have 

thought, that many good results, connected with human 
enterprize and efforts, may be justly ascribed to the influ- 
ence of this passion. On the other hand, it has been main- 
tained, that there are other principles of action of a more 
generous and ennobling kind, which might accomplish, 
and ought to accomplish all, which has been attributed 
to this. Certainly, a little reflection, a little insight into 
our origin, infirmities, and wants, would tend to diminish the 
degree of it, if nothing more. "If we could trace our de- 
scents, (says Seneca,) we should find all slaves to come 
from princes, and princes from slaves. To be proud of 
knowledge, is to be blind in the light ; to be proud of vir- 
tue, is to poison ourselves with the antidote ; to be proud 
of authority, is to make our rise our downfall.'" 



THE F ASSIGNS. 425 

$. 368. Of fear. 

Fear is an emotion of pain, caused by an object, which 
we anticipate will be injurious to us, attended with a de- 
sire of avoiding such object or its injurious effects. — — 
Here, as in other cases, there is a simple emotion, that of 
pain ; and, in respect to this particular emotion, it does 
not differ from certain other of the passions. But it dif- 
fers in some other things, viz. in always having the object 
or cause of the painful emotion in the future, and also in 
the particular form of the attendant desire. — Having made 
desire a part of the passion of fear, and also of other com- 
plex states of the mind, which involve emotions, of the pas- 
sions of love, hatred, sympathy, anger, gratitude, and pride, 
it may have occurred, ere this, to ask, What is meant by 

that term? In answer, it must be acknowledged, that it 

is difficult to give a satisfactory explanation of it. We 
can, indeed, say, that desire is preceded by the idea of 
something, which is the object of it ; and also that it is 
preceded by an emotion of pain or of delight. But 
on the examination of one's own feelings, it will be readily 
perceived, that both of these are different from the state of 
mind in question. " With the mere feelings [of desire,] 
says Brown, I may suppose you to be fully acquainted ; 
and any attempt to define them, as feelings, must involve 
the use of some word exactly synonymous, or will convey 
no meaning whatever." 

But to return to the passion under consideration. The 
strength or intensity of fear will be in proportion to the 
apprehended evil. There is a difference of original sus- 
ceptibility of this passion in different persons ; and the 
amount of apprehended evil will, consequently, vary with 
the quickness of such susceptibility. But whatever causes 
may increase or diminish the opinion of the degree of evil, 
which threatens, there will be a correspondence between 
the opinion, which is formed of it, and the fearful pas- 
sion. When this passion is extreme, it prevents the due 

exercise of the moral susceptibility, and interrupts correct 
judgment of any kind whatever. It is a feeling of great 
54 



420 THE PASSIOHS. 

power, and one, which will not bear to be trifled with. It 
may serve as a profitable hint, to remark, that there have 
been instances of persons thrown into a fright suddenly, 
and perhaps in mere sport, which has immediately resulted 
in a most distressing and permanent mental disorganiza- 
tion. In cases, where the anticipated evil, is very great, 

and there is no hope of avoiding it in any way, the mind 
exists in that state, which is called despair. 

§. 369. Of hope. 

Such is the extensive influence of that state of the 
mind, to which we give the name of hope, that it de- 
serves a separate consideration, although it cannot be 
reckoned, as a distinct passion. It is truly nothing more 
than a modification or form of desire. We desire a thing ; — 
if there be but little probability of obtaining it, it is what 
is termed a wish ; when there is an increase of probability, 
the wish becomes hope ; and when the probability is still 
further increased, the hope becomes expectation, and ex- 
pectation itself may be distinguished as weak or strong. — 
Consequently, hope may be predicated of every thing of 
whatever kind, where there is desire, whether it be a de- 
fire of good or of evil, for ourselves, or for others. When 
the desire is attended with so little probability as to be a 
mere wish, it is languid ; when there is hope, it assumes 
a more vivid and enlivening aspect. We, accordingly, speak 
of ' gay ' hope, of ' cheering,' or { bright ' hope, and re- 
gard it as spreading a sort of rapturous light over the dis- 
tant objects/ which it contemplates. 

" With thee, sweet Hope ! resides the heavenly light, 
" That pours remotest rapture on the sight ; 
" Thine is the charm of life's bewildered way, 
" That calls each slumbering passion into play. 

The influence of that vividness and pleasure of desire, 
which we term hope, is very great. It is felt, more or less* 
in all the duties and situations of life. The school-boy is 
encouraged in his tasks by some hope of reward ; and 
when grown up to manhood, he cheers himself after* a 
thousand disappointments, with some good in prospect. 



78E risfieaa. 427 

The poor peasant, who laboriously cultivates his few sterile 
acres, sees them in his anticipation, rich, and blooming, and 
prodigal of wealth. It proffers its aid in the chambers of 
the sick and suffering ; and the victim of oppressive tyran- 
ny, the captive in the dungeon, is encouraged to summon 
up the fortitude, necessary to prolong his existence, by 
the hope, however poorly founded, of future deliverance. 

§. 370. Gf jealousy. 

Jealousy is a painful emotion, caused by some object 
of love, and attended with a desire of evil towards that ob- 
ject. The circumstance, which characterizes this passion 

and constitutes its peculiar trait, is, that all its bitterness 
and hostility are inflicted on some one, whom the jealous 
person loves. The feelitg of suspicious rivalship, which 
often exists between candidates for fame and power, is 
sometimes called jealousy on account of its analogy to this 
passion. — — There are various degrees of jealousy from the 
forms of mere distrust and of watchful suspicion to its high- 
est paroxysms. In general the strength of the passion will be 
found to be in proportion to the value, which is attach- 
ed to the object of it ; and is perhaps more frequently 
found in persons, who have a large share of pride, than in 
others. Such, in consequence of the habitual belief of their 
own superiority, are likely to notice many trifling inadver- 
tencies, and to treasure them up as proof of intended neg- 
leet, which would not have been observed by others, and 
certainly were exempt from any evil intention. 

The person under the influence of this passion is inca- 
pable of forming a correct judgment of the conduct of the 
individual, who is the object of it ; he observes every thing, 
and gives it the worst interpretation ; and circumstances, 
which, in another state of the mind, would have been to- 
kens of innocence, are converted into proof of guilt. Al- 
though poetry, it is no fiction ; 

" Trifles, light a« air, 

" Arc to the jealous confirmations strong, 
" As proofs of holy writ. » 

Hence it it justly said to be the monster, that ' makes 
the meat it feeds on.' This paision is at times exceeding- 



428 THE PA5SJOX3. 

ly violent. At one moment the mind is animated with all 
the feelings of kindness ; the next, it is transported with the 
strongest workings of hatred, and then it is suddenly over- 
whelmed with contrition. Continually vacillating between 
the extremes of love and hatred, it knows no rest; it would 
gladly bring destruction on the object, whom it dreads to 
lose more than any other, and whom at times it loves more 
than any other. 

§. 371. External signs of the passions. 

Such of our abstract ideas, as are purely intellectual, 
are expressed merely by words, and other artificial, and 
conventional signs. The simple emotions of pleasure and 
pain, and the passions, of which they form a part, have, 
each of them, a language of their own, independently of 
any artificial mode of expressing them ; they are attended 
with certain external appearances, peculiar to themselves. 
These external appearances, which consist of certain move- 
ments of the countenance and body, accompanied some- 
times with inarticulate sounds, constitute a natural lan- 
guage, and very readily signify to all, who behold them, 
the existence of the correspondent emotions and passions. 
— — The emotions, of j>y and grief, which differ from 
those of pleasure and pain only in degree, the passions 
of love and hatred, of sympathy, gratitude, jealousy, &c, 
are all displayed externally in this way; so that a per- 
sons immediate feelings, & sometimes the prominent traits 

of his character may be understood from them. Some 

have regarded the interpretation, which we are able to give 
of these signs, for instance, of a smile or of a frown, as an 
instinctive Or natural power, with which we are endowed 
especially for this purpose. And considering the early 
pericd, at which wc promptly receive them as interpreters 
of the heart, and the difficulty of resolving the whole of 
this early power of interpretation into experience, this 
opinion, which has been advocated by respectable authori- 
ty, is not without weight. In whatever way it is to be ac- 
counted for, the fact, that there are certain signs, appropri- 
ate to the emotions and passions s is taught us by our daily 



THE PASSIONS. 



429 



intercourse and experience. And we are greatly indebted 
to the benevolent oversight of a kind Providence in fur- 
nishing us, whether directly or indirectly, with this partic- 
ular language. Some of its benefits are these. 

Among other things it is an introductory step to the 
formation of oral and alphabetical language. Artificial 
language, whether we regard it as spoken or written, which 
are its two great divisions, is arbitrary, and a matter of 
mere agreement. But if it were not of divine original, as 
some have contended, it is evident, that there must have 
been some antecedent signs, by means of which such a- 
greement was first formed. And w T e can think of no oth- 
er instrument, which could have been employed to this end, 
but those signs of gesture and the countenance, which we 
find frum the earliest period of life to be expressive of emo- 
tions, and the passions. After the formation of artificial 
language, they lend some aid in fixing the meaning of 
words, which are employed to express the feelings, inas- 
much as they help us in ascertaining the nature and degree 
of the feelings themselves, and in distinguishing one from 

another. The happiness ofdomestick society and of our 

general intercourse with our fellow beings is greatly promo- 
ted by these signs. There is a tendency in society to be- 
come constrained and artificial, which is checked by them. 
Looks and gestures give a sort of visible existence to what 
takes place within ; they open a direct access to the heart, 
and make friends and confidants of those, who would oth- 
erwise be strangers. They evidently have a powerful ef- 
fect in calling into action, and in improving the social af- 
fections. These signs give us information of the putting 

forth of the malignant and dissocial passions. The lurking 
hostility, which is often denied in language, is discovered 
by means of them, and puts us upon our guard. And they 
do this not only by disclosing the hostile passions of our 
enemy, but by thus indirectly giving occasion to the exis- 
tence of the corresponding passion of fear, and consequent- 
ly by leading us to take precautions for our security. 

The utility of the external signs of the passions is particu- 
larly to be noticed in cases of affliction. They become to 



430 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

us most striking intimations of the distress of our fellow be- 
ings. We feel, when we behold them, the passion of 
sympathy, and fly to their relief. 



CHAPTER THIRTIETH. 



IMEBNTAXi ALIENATION- 



§. 372. Of the misfortune of a disordered state of mind. 

The mind of man, when in its full and unbiassed exer- 
cise, imparts a dignity to human nature, and is the founda- 
tion of its superiority over the irrational part of creation. 
This being the case, it follows, that when the due exercise 
of the intellectual powers is permanently disturbed, or 
when there is naturally some deficiency in them, the digni- 
ty of his nature is gone ; his ascendency is lost, and, with 
the exception of his erect form, there is no mark to dis- 
tinguish him from the brute. Nothing, therefore, can be 
a greater misfortune ; nothing can be more calamitous, 
than those mental disorders, of which we are to give some 
account. — —The evils, to which the mind is subject, are 
many, differing in kind and degree, being hardly less nu- 
merous than the diseases of the body. But however nu- 
merous, and various, we shall treat of them all under the 
general head of mental alienation, which is but another 
name for mental disorders ; beginning with idiocy, and 
prosecuting the inquiry into the characferisticks of the va- 
rious forms of insanity. 

§« 373. Degree of mental power in idiocy. 

Persons, in the condition of idiocy, will be found to 
have but few ideas of any kind. This small number they 
are able to compare together, so far as to distinguish objectf, 
in which there are any striking differences. Such, how- 



MENTAL ALIENATION. 431 

ever, is their weakness, and at times total incapacity of the 
susceptibility of feeling relations, that the class of abstract 
ideas, resulting from the perception of the relations of ob- 
jects, when they are compared together, are not only few- 
er than those of any other class, but are ill-defined and 
indistinct. These few ideas they are able to combine to- 
gether, and form some simple propositions. They have 
the power of deducing inferences from the comparison of 
a number of consecutive propositions, that is, by reasoning, 
only in a very small degree. Their great feebleness of 
reasoning power is to be attributed partly to the fewness of 
the ideas and propositions, which they possess ; partly, to 
the dulness of their susceptibility of perceiving relations, 
the exercise of which is always implied in the comparison 
of propositions ; and partly, to a great weakness of memo- 
ry. We never find an idiot, who can steadily attend to a 
long argument, and estimate the point and weight of its 
conclusion ; whether it be the steps of a mathematical de- 
monstration, or an argument of a moral nature. 

Owing to this inability to compare propositions and 
deduce conclusions, the idiot is often unable to take care of 
himself; he knows no better than to run under the wheels of 
a carriage, or toset fire to the house, where he would prob- 
ably be consumed. Hence it is not considered right in 
those, who are responsible- for his conduct and preservation 
to leave him in situations, where he can do injury to him- 
self or others. Whatever injury he may do, he is not con- 
sidered accountable. The imbecility c/ mere intellectual 
pow r er extends to the susceptibility of moral distinctions. 
He knows no right or wrong ; moral blame or approbation. 

This is a description of common cases of idiocy ; but 
there are gradations in this, as well as in all other mental 
weaknesses and disorders. There are some, who need not 
to be closely watched by their relatives and friends, and are 
capable of some species of manual labour ; but who can- 
not be safely entrusted with property, and are unequal to 
the management of affairs. 



432 HEJKTAL ALIENATION. 

$. 374. Of occasions of idiocy, 

Idiotism is sometimes natural ; that is, the causes of U 
exist from the commencement of life. In many of these 
cases, there is a greater or less bodily mal -formation; the 
skull is of a size less than common, and there is a dispro- 
portion between the face and the head, the former being 
larger in proportion than the latter. The bones of the 
head are asserted by Dr. Rush to be preternaturally thick ; 
and the consequence of this is a diminution of the internal 

capacity of the cranium. " What appears most striking, 

(says Pinel, in giving an account of an idiot in the asylum, 
Bicetre,) is the extremely disproportionate extent of the 
face, compared with the diminutive size of the cranium. No 
traits of animation are visible in his physiognomy. Every 
line indicates the most absolute stupidity. Between the 
height of the head, and that of the whole stature, there is a 
▼ery great disproportion. The cranium is greatly depress- 
ed, both at the crown and at the temples. His looks are 
heavy, and his mouth wide open. The whole extent of 
his knowledge is confined to three or four confused ideas, 

and that of his speech to as many inarticulate sounds." 

From this instance, which is one of the lowest forms of id- 
iocy, and from others, where there was a similar conforma- 
tion of the head, Pinel seems to be inclined to the opinion, 
that a mal-conformation of the head in particular is the 
cause of idiotism, when it exists from infancy. 

That absence or weakness of intellectual power, which is 
termed idiocy, is often found to exist from other causes. 
Men of great mental ability have sometimes sunk into the 
state of idiotism, in consequence of too great application 
of the mind, combined with a disrelish for social inter- 
course, which would have checked, and probably have pre- 
vented such entire prostration of the intellect. The latter 
cause is thought to have co-operated in bringing on the fa- 
tuity of Dean Swift. In consequence of mean views of 
economy, he was in the habit of absconding from visitors, 
and, in denying himself their company, he lost the oppor- 
tunity both of acquiring now ideas, and of renovating his- 



Mental alienation. 433 

former stores of knowledge. His once vigorous mind col- 
lapsed into such weakness and ignorance, that he was at 
last confined in a hospital, which he had himself founded 
for idiots. Franklin, on the contrary, continued to employ 
himself, not onlv in reading and writing, but in conversa- 
tion; he felt a lively interest in the welfare of his friends, 
and in the progress of all publick enterprizes and institu- 
tions, and at the period of his death, in the 85th year of 
his age, discovered no weakness and decay of mind. 

Idiocy may be induced by mere old age. The senses at 
that period of life become dull ; the ideas received from 
them are less lively, than formerly ; the memory fails, and 
with it the power of reasoning ; and there is combined, with 
these unfavourable circumstances, a want of interest in per- 
sons and events. Further; this state of the mind may 

be caused by various diseases, such as violent fevers, 
which at times suddenly disturb the mental powers, produce 
a temporary delirium, and then leave the intellectual facul- 
ties in a permanently torpid and inefficient condition. It 
may originate also in the abuse of ardent spirits, from great 
grief, from violent blows on the head, from sudden and 
great terrour, &c. — The idiocy, which is natural, and exists 
from infancy, has sometimes been distinguished from that, 
which is brought on by the above-mentioned and other 
causes in after life ; but the mental condition being in 
both cases essentially the same, they may properly be con- 
sidered together in one view. This species of mental 
alienation is generally incurable. 

§. 375. Illustrations of (he cause of idiocy. 

Great and sudden terrour was mentioned, as one of the 
causes of idiocy. Very great and sudden excitements of 
any of the passions may produce the same effect. We 
know of no illustrations of this statement more striking, 
than the following from the interesting work of Pinel on 

Insanity. " The feelings of individuals, endowed with 

acute sensibility, may experience so violent a shock, that 
all the functions of the mind are in danger of being sus- 
pended in their exercises or totally abolished. Sudden 
55 



434 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

joy and excessive fear are equally capable of producing 
this inexplicable phenomenon. An engineer proposed to 
the committee of public safety, in the second year of the 
republick, a project for a new invented cannon, of which 
the effects would be tremendous. A day was fixed for the 
experiment at Meudon ; and Robespierre wrote to the in- 
ventor so flattering a letter, that, upon perusing it, he was 
transfixed motionless to the spot. He was shortly after- 
wards sent to Bicetre in a state of complete idiotism. 

"About the same time, two young conscripts, who had 
recently joined the army, were called into action. In the 
heat of the engagement, one of them was killed by a mus-. 
ket ball, at the side of his brother. The survivor, petrified 
with horror, was struck motionless at the sight. Some 
days afterwards he was sent in a state of complete idio- 
tism to his father's house. His arrival produced a similar 
impression upon a third son of the same family. The 
news of the death of one of the brothers, and the derange- 
ment of the other, threw this third viciini into a state of 
such consternation and stupor as might have defied the 
powers of ancient or modern poetry to give an adequate rep- 
resentation of it. My sympathetick feelings have been fre- 
quency arrested by the sad wreck of humanity, presented 
in the appearance of these degraded beings: but it was 
a scene truly heart-rending to see the wretched father 
come to weep over these miserable remains of his once 
enviable family." 

§. 676. Partial derangement by means of the imagin- 
ation. 

Men of sensibility and genius, by giving way to the sug- 
gestions of a melancholy imagination, sometimes become 
mentally disordered. Not that we are authorized to include 
these cases as among the more striking forms of insanity ; 
they in general attract but little notice, although sources 
of exquisite misery to the subjects of them. But such are 
the extravagant dreams, in which they indulge : such are 
the wrcng vievvs of the character and actions of men, which 
>Wr huKy and melan^ho-y imaginations are apt to form? 



IfENTAi. ALIENATION. 43» 

that they cannot be reckoned persons of truly sound minds. 
These instances, which are not rare, it is difficult fully to 
describe ; but their most distinguishing traits will be rec- 
ognized in the following sketch from Madame de Stael's 
Reflections on the Character and Writings of Rousseau. 

"His faculties were slow in their operation, but his 
heart was ardent : it was in consequence of his own med- 
itations, that he became impassioned : he discovered no 
sudden emotions, but all his feelings grew upon reflection. 
It has, perhaps, happened to him to fall in love gradually 
with a woman, by dwelling on the idea of her during her 
absence. Sometimes he would part, with you, with all his 
former affection ; but if an expression had escaped you, 
which might bear an unfavourable construction, he would 
recollect it, examine it, exaggerate it, perhaps dwell upon 
it for a month, and conclude by a total breach with you. 
Hence it was, that there was scarce a possibility of unde- 
ceiving him ; for the light, which broke in upon him at 
once, was not sufficient to efface the wrong impressions 
which had taken place so gradually in his mind. It uas 
extremely difficult, too, to continue long en an intimate 
footing with him. A word, a gesture, furnished him with 
matter of profound meditation : he connected the most 
trifling circumstances like so many mathematical proposi- 
tions, and conceived his conclusions to be supported 
by the evidence of demonstration.- — "I believe," she 
further remarks, " that imagination was the strongest of 
his faculties, and that it had almost absorbed all the 
rest. He dreamed rather than existed, and the events 
of his life might be said, more properly, to have passed in 
his mind, than without him : a mode of being, one should 
have thought, that ought to have secured him from dis- 
trust, as it prevented him from observation ; but the truth' 
was, it did not hinder him from attempting to observe ; it 
only rendered his observations erroneous. That his soul 
was tender, no one can doubt, after having read his works J 
but his imagination sometimes interposed between his rea- 
son and his affections, and destroyed their influence: he 
appeared sometimes void of sensibility ; but it was because 



436 



MENTAL ALIENATION. 



he did not perceive objects such as they were. Had he 
seen them with our eyes, his heart would have been more 
affected than ours." 

The mental alienation, resulting from a melancholy 
imagination, is the more deplorable, because it is generally 
found to be connected with exquisite sensibility, and often 
with great mental power. Nothing but a warm heart and 
great ability in combination could originate and frame to- 
gether the elements of such ideal exaggerations. Per- 
sons, exposed to this mental disorder, should take the 
alarm; and happy will it be for them, if they can be exci- 
ted to some decided effort by the future misery, which they 
are preparing for themselves. They should strenuously 
endeavour to demolish the world, which their imaginations 
have created, and come out from their solitude into more 
active and busy life. 

*'• Go, soft enthusiast ! quit the cypress grove, 

•' Nor to the rivulet's loneiy moanings nine 

" Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts 

" Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd ; 

•' Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the w>3h 

'' Of nobler minds, and push them night and day. 

" Or join the Caravan in quest of scenes, 

*' New to your eyes, and shifting every hour, 

*<■ Beyond the Alps, beyond the Appeiiines, 

§. 377. Of lightheadedness. 

There is another of the slighter forms of an alienated 
mind, which may be termed lightheadedness ; otherwise 
called by Pinel, demence, and by Dr. Rush, dissociation. 
Persons, subject to this mental disease, are sometimes de- 
signated as 'flighty,' ' hair-brained'; and when the indica- 
tions of it are pretty decided, as a ' little cracked.' 

Their disorder seems chiefly to consist in a deficiency of 
the ordinary power over associated ideas. Their thoughts 
fly from one subject to another with great rapidity ; and, 
consequently, one mark of this state of mind is great volu- 
bility of speech, and almost constant motion of the body. 
This rapid succession of ideas and attendant volubility of 
tongue are generally accompanied with forgetfulness in a 



MENTAL ALIENATION. 



437 



greater or less degree. And as the subject of this form of 
derangement is equally incapable of checking and reflect- 
ing upon his present ideas, and of recalling the past, he 
constantly forms incorrect judgments of things. Another 
mark, which has been given, is a diminished sensibility to 
external impressions. 

§. 378. Illustration of this mental disorder. 

Dr. Rush in his valuable work on the Diseases of the 
Mind has repeated the account, which an English clergy- 
man, who visited Lavater, the physiognomist, has given of 
that singular character. It accurately illustrates this mental 
disorder. — — "I was detained, (says he,) the whole morn- 
ing by the strange, wild, eccentrick Lavater, in various con- 
versations. When once he is set a going, there is no such 
thing as stopping him, till he runs himself out of breath. 
He starts from subject to subject, flies from book to book, 
from picture to picture ; measures your nose, your eye, 
your mouth, with a pair of compasses ; pours forth a tor- 
rent of physiognomy upon you ; drags you, for a proof 
of his dogma, to a dozen of closets, and unfolds ten thou- 
sand drawings ; but will not let you open your lips to pro- 
pose a difficulty ; crams a solution down your throat, be- 
fore you have uttered half a syllable of your objection. 

He is as meagre as the picture of famine ; his nose and 
chin almost meet. I read him in my turn, and found lit- 
tle difficulty in discovering, amidst great genius, unaffect- 
ed piety, unbounded benevolence and moderate learning, 
much caprice and unsteadiness ; a mind at once aspiring 
by nature, and grovelling through necessity ; an endless 
turn to speculation and project ; in a word, a clever, fligh- 
ty, good natured, necessitous man." 

§. 379. Mental derangement of hypochondriasis. 

The mental derangement from hypochondriasis is par- 
tial; in some cases, it is slight ; in others, it assumes a for- 
midable aspect. The subject of this disease suffers much 
mental distress, on account of some erroneous views, eith- 



-l3S MENTAL ALIEXATIOJS, 

er in respect to himself or others. One imagines, that 

he has no soul ; another, that his body is gradually, but 
rapidly perishing ; and a third, that he is converted into 
some other animal, or that he has been transformed into a 
plant. We are told in the Memoirs of Count Maurepas, 
that this last idea once took possession of the mind of one 
of the princes of Bourbon. So deeply was he infected 
with this notion, that he often went into his garden, and 
insisted on being watered in common with the plants 
around him. Some have imagined themselves to be trans- 
formed into glass, and others have fallen into the still 
stranger folly of imagining themselves dead. 

As the characteristick of this disorder of the mind, as 
far as the emotions and passions are concerned, is that 
of repining and grief, the subjects of it are found to be 
peevish, as might be expected, and often irascible. Any 
delay in the gratification of their wishes, the slightest noise, 
trivial d^appointments of whatever kind produce in them 
anger ; and they are thus rendered somewhat uncomforta- 
ble companions even to their relations and friends. 

§. 380. Of intermissions cf hypochondriasis. 

There are not only degrees in this mental malady, 
(sometimes merely a great depression, at others a combina- 
tion of grief, and of perversion in the susceptibility of be- 
lieving,) it is also characterized by occasional intermissions. 
An accidental remark, some sudden combination of ideas, a 
pleasant day, and various other causes are found to dissipate 
the gloom of the mind. In general the intervals of inter- 
mission are attended with a high flow of spirits, often cor- 
responding to the previous extreme depression. Few 

persons, who have not experienced it, have an adequate 
idea of the sufferings, which are endured by the unhappy 
subjects of this disease at its worst stage. The greatest 
bodily pains are light, when compared to them. There 
is nothing, which is a source of joy. Labours, and lacera- 
tions, and tortures would be welcomed, if they could tear 
away the soul from the consciousness of its own griefs. 



HZNTAL ALIENATION. 439 

§. 381. Of the remedies of hypochondriasis. 

The remedies of the mental disease under considera- 
tion divide themselves into two kinds. One species are 
those, which are intended to act directly upon the bodj^ 
and which, therefore, are found fully detailed in med- 
cal treatises. A statement of them cannot be expected 
here. — -—The other class of remedies are of an intellectual 
and moral nature. One of these is the successful diversion 
of the sufferer's thoughts from the particular subject, upon 
which he is most disposed to dwell. When the mind can 
be elevated and torn away from that topick, whatever it may 
be, a speedy restoration has sometimes been known to fol- 
low. Another is an attempt to correct or alleviate moral 

impressions by the application of moral motives. If hypo- 
chondriasis arise from some supposed injury, it may be re- 
moved or at least alleviated, by suggestions tending to les- 
sen the estimate of the amount of injury received. When 
the injury is very great and apparent, suggestions on the 
nature and duty of forgiveness are not without good effect. 

« As all his old associations of ideas have been, more or 

less, visited and tinctured by the sufferer's peculiar malady, 
efforts should be made to break them up and remove them 
from the mind, by changes in the objects, with which he is 
most conversant, by being introduced into new society, or 
by travelling. By these means his thoughts are likely to 
be diverted, not only from the particular subject, which has 
chiefly interested him ; but a new impulse is given to the 
whole mind, which promises to interrupt and banish that 
fatal inertness, which had previously encumbered and pros- 
trated it. 

§. 382. The insanity of the passions. 

We come now to some species of mental alienation, 
more formidable, than those hitherto mentioned. They 
are not chiefly limited in their effects to the subjects of 
them ; but are sources of loss, danger, and injury to others. 
So much so, that it is always necessary to watch the per- 



440 MEXTAL ALIENATION. 

sons afflicted, and often, not only to place them in lunatick 
asylums, but to confine them with chains.- — Among the va- 
rious species of this more decided and fearful derangement 
of the mind, we may first notice the insanity of the passions, 

otherwise called insanity or madness without delirium. 

The assertion may be unexpected, that there is sometimes 
insanity, when the powers of perception are in full and 
just exercise, and when the mind has all its usual ability 
in comparing ideas, and in deducing conclusions. But 

numerous instances have proved it true. This form of 

insanity is either continued ; or is intermittent, and only 
breaks out at intervals. It causes no alteration in what are 
usually designated as the intellectual powers, in distinction 
from the affections. It perverts the passions solely, and the 
victim of it is borne forward to his purpose with a blind, 
but irresistible violence. 

Pinel mentions a mechanick in the Asylum, Bicetre, 
who was subject to this form of insanity. It was intermit- 
tent. He knew, when the paroxysms of passions were com- 
ing on, and even gave warnings to those, who were expos- 
ed to its effects, to make their escape. His powers of cor- 
rectly judging remained unshaken in the commission of 
the most violent and outrageous acts. He saw clearly 
their impropriety, but was unable to restrain himself; and 
after the cessation of the paroxysms, was often filled with 
the deepest grief. 

\ 

§. 3S3. Singular instance of this form of insanity- 

At the time of the French Revolution, a band of sol- 
diers violently entered the above-mentioned Asylum, under 
pretence of liberating certain victims, whom they asserted 
to have been unjustly confined there by the tyrannical au- 
thority of the French monarchs. They marched in arms 
from one cell to another, passing such, as were evi- 
dently insane. At last they came to a maniack, bound in 
chains, who arrested their attention. " Is it not shame- 
ful (said he,) that I should be bound in chains, and con- 
founded with madmen ? It is an instance of the most 



SffiWTAL AL125AT10K. Mi 

flagrant injustice." He conjured the soldiers to termin- 
ate such oppression, and to become his liberators. The 
soldiers called for the governor of the Asylum, and present- 
ing their sabres to his breast, demanded an explanation of 
his conduct in confining this man. The governor endeav- 
oured to reason with them ; he assured them, there are 
instances of madnesss, where there is no delirium, no fail- 
ure of the reasoning powers; but to no purpose. The 
soldiers released the maniack, shouting, Vive la Republique. 
The sight of so many armed men, and their shouting sud- 
denly brought on the ungovernable paroxysm. The mad- 
man flew upon his liberators ; wrested his sabre from the 
nearest soldier, and commenced an indiscriminate attack. 
The soldiers, more convinced by their wounds and their 
apprehensions of danger, than by milder forms of argu- 
ment, were glad to return him to the protection of the 
Asylum. 

§. 384. Sometimes induced by early excessive indulgence. 

This form of insanity appears in some instances to have 
a natural origin, like some of the cases of idiotism. That 
uncontrollable violence of the passions, which is its charac- 
teristick, is developed in the early periods of childhood, and 
indicates the existence of some inherent evil in the mental 
organization. In other instances, it does not make its ap- 
pearance in early life, but is superinduced by long contin- 
ued and excessive indulgence. A child is found to have 

a violent temper ; his parents, in the excess of a weak at- 
tachment, indulge his impetuosity ; his passsions gain 
strength ; the will becomes subservient to them ; and at 
last he is justly looked upon, as equally dangerous with 
any other maniack, and is consigned for safe keeping to a 

hospital. It may be laid down as a truth, confirmed by 

what we know of our intellectual tendencies, also by many 
facts on record, that all persons, whose passions are per- 
mitted to run on without restraint, are rapidly approaching 
the state of most deplorable mental alienation. It is not 
the indulgence of one passion merely, to which the remark 

applies, but all. ——The form of insanitv, to which the re- 
56 



442 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

marks in this, and the two preceding sections, ha^e relation, 
is otherwise known, as insanity of the will. But they are 
the same thing ; with correct views of the mind, we can- 
not separate them. We always find the will, the men- 
tal choice or determination, coinciding with the pre- 
ponderating motives. Inasmuch, therefore, as we have 
already seen, that nothing has, or can have the char- 
acter of a motive, independently of the affections, it fol- 
lows, that there is no act of the will, independently of 
a particular state of the affections, that is, of the passions. 
Consequently, the insanity of the affections or passions in- 
volves, and implies insanity of the will. 

$. 385. Of insanity with delirium. 

The insanity of the passions was characterized as insan- 
ity without delirium. We apply thefterm, delirium, as mark- 
ing the species of mental alienation, when there is some de- 
rangement of what are distinctively termed the intellectual 
powers. In cases of delirium, the powers of perception, 
memory, imagination, reasoning, belief, &c. are all per- 
verted. Not, however, in all instances in the same de- 
gree ; and in some cases, the perversion and derangement 
extend only to a part of these susceptibilities, and perhaps 

only to one. It is generally characteristick of delirious 

insanity, that it is attended with nervous excitement. The 
insane person is animated with strong emotions and pas- 
sions, sometimes tending to great despondency, at others to 
gaiety or fury. 

§. 386. Of perception in cases of delirious insanity. 

In delirious insanity there is often a derangement of 
the powers of perception. The senses of taste, touch, 
smell, hearing, and sight may be all affected ; but particu- 
larly the sense of sight. In visual perception, all objects 

at first seem to touch the eye. Our estimate of distance 
by the sight isnot an original, but an acquired perception. 
What we term perception of distance, therefore, always 
presupposes certain preceding acts of the mind. But in 
delirious insanity the power of judging is, in a great meas- 



MENTAL ALIENATION, 443 

ure, and often, totally, subverted and lost. Hence the de- 
lirious man often mistakes in the perception of distance, 
and it is no uncommon thing to find him attempting to throw 
himself from the windows of an upper story, or down the 
brink of a precipice. Such attempts can be accounted for 
on no other supposition, than a mistake of sight, except in 
some instances of very violent paroxysms, or of a perma- 
nent inclination to self-destruction. The same causes, 

which perplex their perceptions of distance, confuse their 
notions of extension, of the form of bodies, and of the out- 
lines of any object of sight whatever. Hence delirious 
persons are found to experience great difficulty in reading 
a book, and often confound objects and persons. When a 
maniack mistakes a man for a horse, and tells the bystan- 
ders to keep on the look out, because the animal is un- 
tractable and given to kicking, the remark is not always 
to be regarded, as a mere madman's attempt at wit. It is 
well ascertained from the confessions of maniacks, who 
have recovered, and have remembered what passed in their 
delirium, that there may be a derangement of the visual 
perceptions so great, as to occasion such an absurd mis- 
take. They sometimes see objects and persons, which 

are not present. This fact may perhaps be explained in the 
same way, as those mental states, which we have termed ap- 
paritions. Hence madmen are, as they suppose, surrounded 
at times with demons, angels, bodies of armed men, &c. 
They declaim, put themselves in attitudes of defence, vio- 
lently beat the air, cry out for help, gain victories ; all 
occasioned by their disordered visual perceptions. 

§. 387. Of association in delirious insanity. 

In the form of insanity, which is termed delirious, the 
law of association or suggestion is found to be greatly af- 
fected. Rapidity of association was given, as a character- 
istick of that form of partial insanity, which was termed 
lightheadedness or'demence.' But in delirium it often 
exists in a far more striking degree. In lightheadedness, 
the indirect power, which is retained and exercised by the 
will over trains of thought, is only diminished ; in delirium 



444 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

it is often wholly annulled. Every new object, every new 
countenance, every noise heard in the room, where the de- 
lirious person is, or noises, that are heard from without, 
indeed every thing, with which thoughts and feelings have 
been formerly associated, revives those ancient trains of 
mental acts. They are poured in upon him, like a flood ; 
and it is easier to conceive, than describe what a tumultu- 
ous chaos the mind in such a condition must be. When 
we consider, that these uncalled for trains of thoughts are 
thrown in upon the maniack,when his system is in great ner- 
tous excitement, and that he is unable to resist or to regu- 
late the instantaneous transference of the mind from sub- 
ject to subject, it is no wonder, that he should exhibit much 
external agitation, wildness of countenance, violence of 
gestures, outcries, &e. 

It is further to be remarked here, that the utter inabil- 
ity of the madman to control the train of associated 
thoughts is one cause of the perversion of the power of 
perception. It appeared in the chapter on Dreaming, 
(§. 215.) that when our conceptions of things *ire not sus- 
ceptible of any guidance and control from the will, they 
have a tendency to take the place of, and appear to us 
nuch the same, as the original perceptions. This is one 
cause, why they mistake their mere thoughts for beings, 
the n.ere workings of the mind for external and local ex- 
istences. 

$. 388. Illustration of the above section. 

The following account of the rapid mental transitions of 
an insane person in the New Bethlem Hospital, London, will 
go to confirm, and illustrate what has been said. Like all 
characteristick traits of insanity, it is a melancholy picture. 
Difficult as it is to conceive, that such an endless series of 
topicks should be crowded into the mind in a space so 
■hort, it is only what is realized in all cases of delirious in- 
sanity, where a derangement of the laws of association is 
the prominent trait. " Wholly unlimited by the identi- 
ties of time, place, or person, he instantly accommodate® 



KENTAL ALIENATION 44& 

each to his fancy, and in a moment he is any where, and 
every where, and any body, by turns. At one time he imag- 
ined himself to be the Lord Chancellor, or, as he emphatic- 
ally styled himself, ' Young Baggs ;' and no mortal tongue 
ever maintained the loquacity of the law, or talked with 
more incessant volubility, than his imaginary lordship. He 
would decide ten thousand causes in a day ; he would ac- 
cuse, try, condemn, and execute whole nations in a breath. 
His language was as wild and far-fetched as his fancy was 
various; topicks of all kinds\ seemed to come tumbling into 
his mind, without order or connexion. Of every name he 
heard mentioned he instantly became the personal repre- 
sentative, and says, ' I am he f thus he is by turns Bona- 
parte, the King, the Duke of Wellington, Lord Londonder- 
ry, the Persian Ambassador, Mr. Pope, Homer, Smollett, 
Hume, Gibbon, John Bunyan, Mrs. Clarke, the Queen, 
Bergami. He is successively a Hottentot, a Lascar, a 
Spaniard, a Turk, a Jew, a Scotsman. He has been in all sit- 
uations and occupations of life, according to his own ac- 
count ; a potboy at Hampstead, a shoeblack, a chimney- 
sweeper, an East-India Director, a kennel-raker, a gold- 
finder, an oyster- woman, a Jew cast-clothesman, a police 
justice, a judge, a keeper of Newgate, and, as he styles it, 
c His Majesty's law iron-monger for the home department:' 
nay, he has even been Jack Ketch, and has hung hundreds ; 
he has been a soldier, and has killed thousands ; a Portu- 
guese, and poignarded scores ; a Jew pedlar, and cheated 
all the world ; a member of Parliament for London, and 
betrayed his constituents ; a Lord Mayor, a bishop, an ad- 
miral, a dancing-master, a Rabbi, Grimaldi in the panto- 
mime, and ten thousand other occupations, that no tongue 
or memory but his own could enumerate. The specimen 
just given may serve as a sample of what is passing in his 
fancy." 

§. 389. Of the effect of delirium on the power of belief. 

In men of sane minds we find great diversities in the 
susceptibility of belief. Whatever may be the cause of it, 



446 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

it is very obvious, that the same circumstances extort a 
readier and stronger assent from some, than others. There 
are three classes of persons, in whom this faculty or sus- 
ceptibility appears to be disordered. (1) The first class 

are those, who seem incapable of believing any thing, 
which they are required to receive on the testimony of oth- 
ers. They must seer it with their own eyes ; they must 
bear it, or handle it for themselves ; they must examine it 
by square, rule, and compass. They remind one of the 
Savage, who complained, when something was proposed 
lor his belief, " that it would not believe for him." The 
causes of this singular inability are worthy of more inqui- 
ry, than has hitherto been expended upon them. When 
It is very great, it is a mark of the approach or actual ex- 
istence of idiocy. (2) There is another class of persons, 

who plainly show a derangement of this power, by their 
readiness to believe every thing. No matter how incon- 
gruous or improbable a story is, it is received at once. 
They take no note of dates, characters, and circumstances; 
and as they find nothing too improbable to believe, they 
find nothing too strange, marvellous, and foolish to report, 
This state of mind is frequently an accompaniment of 

lightheadedness. (3) The susceptibility of belief must 

of course be very much affected in delirious persons. They 
do not, and cannot rely upon the reports of the senses as 
evidence, as is done by men of sound minds. Being inca- 
pable of checking their thoughts, so as carefully to exam- 
ine them, they do not have it in their power to estimate 
degrees of probability. And in this class, as well as in 
the first mentioned, that original tendency in our constitu- 
tion, which leads us to repose with so much confidence on 
the testimony of our fellow beings as to matters of fact, 
which have come under their observation, seems to be ob- 
literated. This, in general, is the condition of the power 

of belief in madmen. There is, however, in some cases 

a peculiarity in this respect, which requires to be mention- 
ed. In the instances, to which we allude, the predomina- 
ting cause of the insanity consists in the mere tenacity of 
belief. That is, certain propositions, which are erroneous 



MENTAL ALIENATION. 447 

and absurd, are received by the disordered persons as cer- 
tain; and nothing can convince them of the contrary. 
One believes himself to be a king ; another, that he is the 
prophet, Mahomet ; and various other absurdities are re- 
ceived by them, as undoubtedly true. On all other sub- 
jects they appear to be rational ; but their insanity is evid- 
ent, as soon as their cherished errours are mentioned- 

Something of this kind has already been mentioned, as ex- 
isting in extreme cases of hypochondriasis. When delir- 
ium extends no further than a derangement of the suscep- 
tibility of belief, it cannot easily be distinguished from 
them ; except that, in instances of hypochondriasis, there 
is a more fixed and decided melancholy feeling, and in 
general less nervous agitation. 

§. 390. Powers of reasoning in the insane. 

When the derangement is total, extending to all sub- 
jects, the powers of reasoning are gone ; although some- 
times a few propositions seem to be accurately connected 
together, perhaps by accident rather than otherwise. When 
it is partial, the ability of ratiocination remains. The in- 
sane man often appears rational, talks very well, and is 
known to be otherwise than of a sound mind, not by his 
conclusions, or his mode of connecting propositions, but 
by his premises. 

%. 391. Instance of partial insanity in the character 
of Don Quixote. 

Cervantes has taken advantage of that condition of 
mind, which we term partial insanity, in laying the founda- 
tion of his entertaining work. The hero of his story is 
represented as having his naturally good understanding 
perverted by the perusal of certain foolish, romantick sto- 
ries, falsely purporting to be a true record of knights and 
of deeds of chivalry. These books, containing representa- 
tions of dwarfs, giants, necromancers, and other preternatu- 
ral extravagance, were zealously perused, until the poor 
man's head was effectually turned. But, although he was 



448 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

in a state of real mental derangement, it was limited to the 
extravagancies, which have been mentioned ; on other sub- 
jects he was rational ; and could his mind have been freed 
from its knight errant delusion, he would have been, with- 
out a greater celebrity than is possessed by a thousand 
others, a reputable citizen of his native village. 

"In all his conversations (Bk. iv. ch. 23) and replies, 
he gave evident proofs of a most excellent understanding,, 
and never ' lost the stirrups,' except on the subject of chiv- 
alry." On this subject he ' was craz'd.' 

Bracing his shield, therefore, and brandishing his lance, 
he declares to his credulous attendant (B. iii. ch. 6.), that 
strange perils and vast adventures are reserved for him; 
that he is ordained to re-establish the knights of the Round 
Table, and that his fame will exceed that of the Tablantes 
and the Olivantes. 

When the barber and curate visited him on a certain 
occasion, the conversation happened to turn on what are 
termed reasons of state, and on modes of administration ; 
and Don Quixote spoke so well on every topick, as to con- 
vince them, that he was quite sound and had recovered the 
right exercise of his judgment. But something being un- 
advisedly said about the Turkish war, the Knight at once 
remarked with much solemnity and seriousness, that his 
majesty had nothing to do, but to issue a proclamation, 
commanding all the knights-errant in Spain to assemble at 
his court by such a day ; and although not more than half a 
dozen should come, among these one would be found, who would 
alone be sufficient to overthrow the whole Turkish power. 

When the subject of conversation turned upon war, 
which had so near a connection with shields, and lances, 
and all the associations of chivalry, it came within the range 
of his malady. 

In reading the book, to which these remarks have ref- 
erence, if we keep in mind the true mental state of its he- 
ro, we shall see an admirable consistency in its narrations, 
and a truth to nature, which otherwise might not be ob- 
served. 



MENTAL ALIENATION. 449 

§; 392. Of quickness of thought and cunning in insane 
persons. 

Those, who have been personally acquainted with the 
intellectual condition of the insane, have sometimes obser- 
ved in them great quickness of thought in some little emer- 
gencies, and an unusual degree of Cunning. When, for 
instance, an attempt has been made to seize and confine 
them, they steadily and promptly mark the motions of their 
pursuers $ they rapidly decypher their intentions from 
their countenance ; and cause them no small degree of 
perplexity. This quickness and cunning may sometimes 
be noticed in those, who have no lucid intervals ; but chief- 
ly in those, who are only partially insane. 

Persons, whose derangement originates in the reception 
and firm belief of certain erroneous propositions, often rea- 
son correctly from them. If the madman believes himself 
to be a king, he reasons right in requiring suitable hom- 
age, and in expressing dissatisfaction, when it is withheld. 
Further ; they frequently discover more rapidity of thought, 
more fluency of expression, and even more exactness of 
deduction, than others of a perfectly sound mind, or than 
themselves could have exhibited before their derangement. 
This singular fact is to be briefly explained. 

§. 393. Causes of readiness of reasoning in the partial-* 
ly insane. 

The unusual powers of reasoning, which have been 
noticed in partially insane persons, may be referred to two 

causes. There is, in the first place, an uncommon 

excitation of the attention, and of all the intellectual pow- 
ers. They are not troubled with torpidness. Whatever 
is done, or asserted, is strictly observed by them. 

There is, in the second place, a removal of those 
checks, which attend the sober and the rational in their 
reasonings. 

Some of the checks, which retard the process of rea- 
soning in the case of men, whose powers are in a goad 
state, are these ;— — (1) A distrust of phraseology,— -a fear 
56 



450 KgMTAt! AfclEHATlCtf. 

of mistakes from the ambiguity and vagueness of lan- 
guage. The object of a rational man is supposed to be 

to arrive at truth, and not merely to gain a victory. He, 
therefore, feels anxious, not only to employ terms, which 
appear to himself proper, but which shall be rightly under- 
stood by his opponent. But the irrational man, as might 
be expected, does not find himself embarrassed with con- 
siderations of this nature. (2) A second obstruction to 

facility and promptness in argumentation, in the case of 
the soberminded and rational, is this ; — They fear, that they 
may not be in possession of all those premises, on which 
the solution will be found in the event to depend. — Many- 
disputes are carried on without previously forming an ac- 
quaintance with those facts, which are necessarily and 
prominently involved. While disputants of sound minds 
have any suspicion on this point, and know not but it will 
be labour lost, they of course feel their interest in the dis- 
pute very much diminished. (3) The third circumstance, 

to which reference was had, is this; — The influence of 
certain feelings of propriety and of good sense, which or- 
dinarily govern men in the full exercise of their powers. 

The disputant feels himself under obligations to profess a 
deference for his opponent ; it is due to the customary 
forms of society. He is sometimes restrained and embar- 
rassed by what he considers due to those, who are present 
to hear the argument. He is particularly careful to say 

nothing foolish, absurd, or uncharitable. All these 

things weigh nothing with the insane person. He is not 
troubled about exactness of expression, or the observance of 
ceremonies, but strangely rushes, as it were, upon the main 
points of the controversy, regardless of all minor considera- 
tions. 

§. 394. Effect of insanity on the memory* 

While the other acts of the mind, perception, and asso- 
ciation, and reasoning are disordered, the memory does 
not remain unaffected. The past life of the delirious per- 
son, (we here speak of eases where the mental disorder is 



MBRTAL ALIEN AXIOM. ' 4&t 

not partial,) is an utter chaos. Such is the rapidity, 
with which thoughts crowd in upon him, that he is unable 
for this reason, if there were no other, to arrange, and clas- 
sify, and refer them to their proper periods. He may re- 
member for a few moments, perhaps for a (ew hours. He 
may revengefully treasure up some act of punishment for 
a much longer time ; but this does not affect the truth of 
the general statement. The heterogeneous confusion of 
his own intellect, might be assumed, as a fit symbol of 
his notions of the great multitude of facts, which have 

taken place in the past.- See here then the picture 

of the mind, thai noble fabrick, in the more formidable 
stages of delirium — the power of perception disordered 
in all its forms— the laws of association disturbed and torn 
from the guidance of the will — the susceptibility of belief 
perverted — the memory gone, and with it the world of the 
past — the power of reasoning, and with it the world of the 
future. This cumbersome mass of intellectual ruins is 
convulsed and rendered still more hideous, bj the demor- 
alization and unrestrained impulses of the passions. 

§. 395. Of momentary impulses inclining to insanity* 

There is sometimes a peculiar, but transitory state of 
mind, bordering on partial insanity, which deserves a men» 
tion here ; although it is experienced in persons, who are 
sane. It is a strange propensity in a person to do in cer* 
tain situations those things, Which, rf done, would clearly 
prove him deranged. The instances of these very sudden 

and singular impulses ^re probably not numerous. At 

an illustration, a person of a perfectly sane mind acknowl- 
edged, that whenever he passed a particular bridge, ho 
felt a slight inclination to throw himself over, accompanied 
with some dread, that his inclination might hurry him &- 
way. 

§. 396. Causes of the insanity of delirium. 

Some of the causes of idiocy were mentioned in a for- 
mer section ; something is to be said of the causes of the 
mental alienation or insanity of delirium ; although there 13 



452 MENTAL ALIENATION. 

much ground for considering them essentially the same, 

inasmuch as delirium often terminates in idiocy. The 

causes of delirious insanity are of two kinds, moral, and 
physical. — All diseases, which violently affect the physical 
system, such as epilepsy, fevers, &, apoplexy, also injuries of 
the brain,&c. indirectly affect the mind, and may cause per- 
manent delirium. It is worthy of remark also in regard 

to this form of mental alienation, that it is in some degree 
hereditary; hence it is often said of particular families, 
that they are predisposed to insanity. The father, son, and 
grandson have not only been known to become succes- 
sively insane, but the derangement has sometimes taken 
place in each case, in the same year of their life. 

There are various moral causes of mental alienation. — 
It has been caused, among other circumstances of a mor- 
al nature, by disappointed ambition. Disappointment in 
mercantile and other speculations, and in any ardent ex- 
pectations whatever, often has the same effect. Erroneous 
religious opinions, great excitements of feeling on reli- 
gious subjects have contributed towards supplying lunatick 
hospitals. An unrestrained indulgence of any of the pas- 
sions is found to be attended with the same results. 

We find a fruitful source of mental derangement in the 
vicissitudes of political events. A recent writer in a 
French medical journal says, that he could give a 
history of the political revolutions in France from the 
taking of the Bastille, down to the return of Bonaparte from 
Elba, by detailing the causes of certain cases of insanity. — 
It appears from reports from insane hospitals, that moral 
causes of insanity are more numerous, than physical. But 
jn many cases the influence of both is combined together. 

<§. 397. Of moral accountability in mental alienation. 

It is in some respects a difficult question, Whether men, 
who are in a state of mental alienation, are morally ac- 
countable — Whether they are subjects of merit or demer- 
it ? And if so, in what cases, and how far? In deter- 
mining this question, there ought to be a distinction made 



MENTAL ALlENATIOJf, 45J 

between cases of insanity from mere melancholy imagina- 
tion, or from confirmed hypochondriasis, and those of total 
delirium. In the last, there is evidently no accountability. 
In the former instances, a judgment should be formed 
from the circumstances of the particular case under con- 
sideration ; and also in all cases, where there is a mere de- 
rangement of the associating principle, so far as to consti- 
tute a person light-headed or flighty. The same must be 
said of the insanity of the passions. 

This, however, may be laid down, as a general rule in 
respect to some of the aspects of insanity ; and perhaps it 
is the only one, which can be ; viz. Insane persons, whether 
their insanity arise from original deficiency and weakness 
in the ordinary mental powers, or from delirium, are not to 
be considered accountable, are not subjects of praise or 
blame, whenever it appears, that such deficiency or de- 
lirium extends to, and annuls the power of judging. 

And this is the case with all persons, who are the subjects 

of total insanity. When the insanity is partial, it would 

seem to follow, therefore, that the first inquiry should 
be, whether the action committed comes within the range 
of the malady. For a person, who is insane on one sub- 
ject merely, will probably be found to labour under a per- 
version of judgment in respect to that particular subject, 
no less than if the delirium were total. Consequently, a 
distinction may be justly set up, although it w r ill require 
much caution in doing it, between those actions, which can 
be clearly found within the limits of the person's insanity, 
and those, which evidently fall without it. 

§. 398. Of the imputation of insanity to individuals. 

While the existence of insanity, so far as materially to 
affect the powers of judging, takes away accountability in 
whole or in part, it affects proportionally the relations, which 
the subjects of it sustain to society. In all^well organized 
communities it will be found [to follow from the terms of 
the civil compact, that those, who exercise sovereignty, are 
bound to afford protection to the citizen^in general, #• to in- 



4f>4 RENTAL ALIENATION. 

dividuals in particular, in certain cases. Hence they will be 
found to have taken precautionary measures, the nature of 
which all are acquainted with, to protect the community 
against the injuries, which insane persons might commit, 
and also to alleviate that unhappiness, which they necessa- 
rily bring, in a greater or less degree, on themselves and 
families. 

Accordingly it is implied in the imputation of insanity 
to individuals, by an act of the civil authorities, that the 
insane person is deprived of that ability of self-government, 
which is the common allotment of men ; that the strong 
bonds of friendship, of family, and of country, which once 
kept him in his appropriate station in society, are loosen- 
ed; and that he must find, in the substitution of the will 
and guardianship of the State, that oversight and protec- 
tion, which he has lost by the alienation of his own. While 
all must admit the propriety of this course, where the cir- 
cumstances of the case justly demand it, it must be con- 
ceded, that nothing can be more solemn and affecting, 
than such a publick imputation of derangement, which, 
whether just or unjust, practically annihilates the civil and 
social character of man, and seals his degradation in these 
respects. It is a right, therefore, which ought not to be ex- 
ercised but upon good ground, and the exercise of which 
ought to be understood to require, and to imply a correct 
acquaintance with this difficult, but practical and impor- 
tant subject. And the more so, because there have been 
depraved individuals, who have endeavoured to fasten the 
charge of insanity upon others from some interested mo- 
tives,— in order to gratify malignant passions, or to control 
tkeir persons, or property. A suitable protection against 
the designs of such is to be had, not merely in the integri- 
ty of those, who are to judge in these cases, but in their 
acquaintance with the laws and tendencies of the mind. 

Before leaving this topick, one suggestion further re- 
mains. In forming an opinion as to the mental aliena- 
tion of an individual, not only those particular facts are to 
he considered, which are supposed to indicate insanity, 



XENTAL ALIENATION. 455 

but they are to be estimated, in connection with constitu- 
tional traits of character. That rapidity of association, that 
gay and heedless transition from subject to subject, which 
is natural in one, and occasions no surprize, would be re- 
garded in another, as a positive indication of the distur- 
bance of the mental powers. 

§. 399. Of the treatment of the insane. 

In closing this view of mental maladies, it is proper to 
make some suggestions on the treatment due to those of 
our fellow beings, who are thus afflicted. It is no uncom- 
mon thing to see them treated with unkindness. Al- 
though they may not, in general, so readily perceive and so 
intensely feel, as others, the injuries they receive, any 
cruelty of treatment towards them is very unjustifiable in 
the authors of it. 

It is wrong on the general principle, that we are bound, 
not to cause and increase suffering unnecessarily in any 
case whatever, even in the animal creation. The poet, 
Cowper, uttered the sentiment of all kind and honourable 
men, when he declared, he would not reckon in his list 
of friends the man, who should needlessly set foot upon a 
worm. 

It is wrong also, on the principle, that we should do to 

others, as we ourselves wish to be done by. The person 

of an alienated mind may not be able to reason on the sub- 
ject of what is due to him, but those, who possess rational 
powers, can. They cannot fail to see the application of 
the Scriptural principle, which has been mentioned, in the 
present instance. All persons whatever are subject to 
these mental evils ; and it is presumed, that no one would 
be easy in the anticipation of being left without care and 
assistance from others, when he should be unable to take 
care of himself. If, therefore, we take the ground, that 
persons in the state of idiocy, or of delirium, or of any 
of the forms of mental alienation, are not entitled to care 
and kindness, we are possibly treasuring up for ourselves 
a retribution of a similar fearful character. 



4 5 6 M E N T AL AlAE ft \ T I O N . 

Again ; ill treatment of cases of this kind is a tacit re- 
flection on the Supreme Being, which we cannot, with- 
out great self-ignorance, imagine ourselves authorized 
to make. He has in his wisdom permitted them to exist, as 
memorials of human weakness, and as useful commentaries 
on pride of intellect ; and perhaps also to give us an op- 
portunity of exercising the noble virtues of charity and hu- 
manity. We are, therefore, bound to receive the instruc- 
tions they impart, and to exercise the virtues, which they 
give us an opportunity of exercising; otherwise, we cast 
contempt on Him, whose almighty hand orders the distinc- 
tions, and distributes the allotments both of bodily and of 
intellectual life. 

Note.— The subject of insanity in its various forms is so in- 
timately connected with human happiness, that it could not 
fail very early to arrest attention. Medical writers in par- 
ticular had abundant occasion to notice the causes and 
circumstances of its developement. A numerous cata- 
logue of them have made it the subject of their remarks. 
And while it was their prominent object to prevent or to 
alleviate one of the sorest maladies, which it is the lot of 
human nature to suffer, they have indirectly thrown light on 
the whole field of the philosophy of the mind. 

Where so many have written, it would be some labour 
to make out a full list, and a weightier and more responsi- 
ble task, to discriminate their respective merits. Without, 
therefore, presuming to undertake it, we merely embrace 
this opportunity to mention among others, as writings that 
may be read with advantage, M. Pinel's Treatise on In- 
sanity, Hush on the Diseases of the mind, and the articles 
on the subject of mental alienation in the Dictionaire 
pes Sciences Medicales. There is in these writings an 
aptness of illustration, a philanthropick eloquence, a spirit 
of philosophy, which can hardly fail to interest and ir*- 
itruct. 



45' 
CHAPTER THIRTY FIRST. 



ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. 



§. 400. Of the meaning of prejudices. 

In forming our judgments or opinions of things, we are 
led to take into consideration a variety of facts and circum- 
stances, which are applicable to the particular subjects under 
consideration, and are fitted to influence the mind in the 
formation of such opinions. The circumstances and facts, 
which are thus fitted to influence our belief, in conse- 
quence of giving new views in respect to the subjects be- 
fore us, are commonly termed evidence. Prejudices, 

to which we are now to attend, are judgments or opinions, 
which are formed without a suitable regard to the evi- 
dence, properly pertaining to them. Whenever, for ex- 
ample, sources of evidence, which are within our reach, 
are overlooked ; or when the facts and incidental circum- 
stances constituting the evidence are allowed to have too 
great, or too little influence. A mind, which discovers a 
tendency thus to overlook or misapply grounds of evidence, 

is called a prejudiced mind. A greater or less degree 

of importance will be attached to this subject, according 
as we attach a greater or less degree of value to the pos- 
session of correct and enlightened opinions. None can 
consider it unimportant; many will justly regard it, as of 
the very highest importance. It is the object of this chap- 
ter to point out some of the principal sources of prejudices. 

§. 401. Of constitutional prejudices. 

The formation of opinions without a suitable regard to 
the evidence may sometimes be attributed to something in 

the constitution, to some original weakness or obliquity in 

57 



455 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

the mental character ; as in the following instances. 

Some person's minds appear to be limited in their range j 
they are incapable of taking in, and retaining, and com- 
paring a number of propositions at once. Inasmuch, 
therefore, as they are incapable of doing this, and must p 
consequently, let many facts and incidents go without 
proper examination, they are led to adopt and cherish opin- 
ions on other grounds, than a suitable regard to the evi- 
dence. Such opinions, although those, who maintain 
them, may be thought to be less culpable than many oth- 
ers, are rightly considered prejudices.— — Another class 
are those, who are naturally too credulous; who are ready 
to receive every thing for truth, which has even the slight- 
est degree of evidence in its favour. It seems to be alto- 
gether impossible to induce them to pause, to examine, to 
compare, to reflect. They readily believe whatever they 
read, or hear asserted, until they find it contradicted ; and 
then they adopt some other opinion as readily and on as 
slight ground, as they adopted the first, which they retain 
no longer than they are met with, and driven about by the 

next wind of doctrine. Other persons are of a temper 

nearly the reverse; they are naturally obstinate, and con- 
tentious, and are unwilling to receive any thing, that is 
proposed for their belief, however reasonable it may be. 
Consequently their opinions, so far as they are the oppo- 
site of those, which have a higher degree of evidence 
in their favour, are prejudices. And this is the case with 

very many of them. Erroneous opinions of this kind, 

which can be traced back to some peculiarity originally 
inherent in the mind, may be termed constitutional preju- 
dices When such constitutional defects are excessive, 
and disqualify the subjects of them for the ordinary con- 
cerns of life, they are considered as coming within some 
of the multiplied forms of insanity. (See §. 389.) 

§. 402« Of prejudices in favour of our youth. 

Many of those opinions, which we form of the scenes, 
andeventf, and characters of our youthful days, are preju- 



GRXGZN OF PREJUDICES, 45S 

dices. As we look back and frame an estimation of that 
early period, the associates of our childhood and youth 
seem to us to have been without a crime; the interests of 
parents were never at variance with those of their children j 
masters sought the good of their dependants ; the poor 
were fed ; magistrates were virtuous ; the religious teach- 
ers were eminently holy men, Alas, for these evil days of 
our manhood and old age, in which there is such rottenness 
in all civil institutions, that have been changed, such cor- 
ruption in ev?ry new set of magistrates, and such deprav- 
ity in the great mass of the people ! The causes of this appa- 
rent disparity between the world, as it exists now, and for- 
merly, are briefly these. In the morning of life every 

thing is new ; our attention is arrested by a multitude of 
novel objects, and the mind is filled with delight. Happy 
ourselves, we imagine, that, with few exceptions, all others 
are not less so ; and while our own hearts are conscious 
of innocence, we are exempt from any suspicion of crime 
in others. In a word, we suppose all the world to be hap- 
py, all the world to be innocent and just, because we are 
conscious of the existence of rectitude and truth and inno- 
cence in ourselves, and are too unexperienced to be aware 
of the frequency of their absence from the great mass of 
mankind. As we grow up, cares multiply ; bodily infirm- 
ities increase ; we more often see collisions of interest, 
hollow professions, deceptive expedients, and intriguing 
arts of all kinds ; and what is worse, we discover in our 
own breasts more of distrust, jealousy, passion, and other 

evils, than had been developed in our earlier days. The 

true solution then is this ; We attribute to one thing what 
belongs to another. We ascribe to the great mass of man- 
kind changes, which have only taken place in ourselves.——* 
The world appears to us differently from what it did when 
we were young, not because it has itself essentially altered, 
which can never be supposed to have happened in the pe- 
riod of a single life of man ; but because we, as individual!, 
have become more acquainted with its true character, and 
are made more sensibiy to feel the pressure of its many ills. 



460 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES, 

It has been by means of this prejudice in favour of our 
youth, that a permanency has often been communicated to 
political institutions, to which they were not entitled by 
their intrinsick merits. It has often excited surprise in 
the historian, that forms of government, which were unjust 
in their operation, expensive, and every way defective, have 
been sustained without a murmur, and even loved and ven- 
erated by those, who have chiefly experienced their evil re- 
sults. It is the same government, (and if it be a monar- 
chy, the same administrators of it, or their lineal descen- 
dants,) which existed, when they were young. They then 
loved it, because they neither understood, nor felt its de- 
fects, and because at that period every thing was new, and 
interesting, and lovely. The attachments then formed 
continue, at least till manhood ; and then it is too late 
with the greater part of mankind to throw off old affec- 
tions, and to form the mind to the love of a new and better 
order of things. And thus, in consequence of the mental 
blindness, superinduced by prejudices of this sort, errours 
are perpetuated, gross abuses are too patiently borne, 
and each generation entails an inheritance of wretched- 
ness on the succeeding. 

§. 403. Of prejudices of home and country. 

There are prejudices in favour of one's native country 
and of the village, where he may happen to have been 
brought up, and to live. And this prejudice in favour of 
one's own residence and nation is too often attended with 
a contempt and dislike of those, who have their origin 
elsewhere. It is notorious, that two of the most powerful 
and well informed nations on earth, the French and Eng- 
lish, have for a long series of years affected to despise, and 
have most certainly hated each other. The French and 
Spaniards, who also are near neighbours to each other, 
have hardly been on better terms. The Italians, flattered 
by the eminent succeis of some of their countrymen in the 
arts, term the Germans blockheads ; while the Germans 
get their satisfaction by bestowing the same appellation on 
the Swiss. Even the poor and ignorant Greenlander has 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 461 

his grounds of triumph ; and amid his rocks and, snows 
fondly imagines, that there is no home, no freedom like his. 
Different explanations may be given of the origin of 
this strong attachment to our nation and the place of our 
residence, and of the contempt, which is often entertained 
for others. Whatever explanation may be adopted, the 
existence of such feelings is well known, and their influ- 
ence in perplexing our judgments of men and things exten- 
sively felt. This is seen in the criticisms, which are made 
by the authors of one nation on the productions in litera- 
ture and the arts of anothar. With the Englishman, Mon- 
tesquieu is superficial and dull; with the Frenchman, 
Newton dwindles down to a mere almanack-maker ; in one 
country a writer is extolled on account of the place of his 
birth, and in another is decried and put down for the same 
reason. It is important to all to be aware of the tenden- 
cy to form erroneous opinions in consequence of these pre- 
delictions and antipathies. A mind well balanced, and anx- 
ious to know the truth and to do equal and exact justice to 
all, will carefully guard against it. 

§. 404. Professional prejudices. 

Some erroneous opinions may be attributed io men's 
professions or callings in life. A little self-examination 
will convince us, that our feelings are apt to be unduly en- 
listed in favour of those, who are practising the same arts, 
pursuing the same studies, engaged in the same calling of 
whatever kind. When at any time it falls to us to discrim- 
inate between such, and persons of another art or calling ; 
to determine which has the greatest merit, or is the deepest 
in crime, there is no small difficulty in becoming entirely 
divested of this feeling. It continually rises up, even 
when we seem to be unconscious of it ; it gives a new as- 
pect to the facts, which come under examination; it secretly 
but almost infallibly perplexes the decisions of men, who 
have the reputation of candour, and who would be offend- 
ed at the imputation of intended injustice. 

The causes of prejudices, arising from particular pro- 



^$2 oaieiN of prejudices. 

fessions in life, are undoubtedly much the same, as those 
which are at the bottom of the partial sentiments, which 
people entertain of their own home and country. There is 
something in our constitution, which leads us to feel a 
deep interest in those, with whom we are much associated, 
whose toils are the same, who have the same hope to stim- 
ulate, and the same opposition to encounter. Besides, 
our own selfish feelings are at work. Our honour, and 
consequently, our respectability are in some degree involv- 
ed in that of the profession. As that rises or falls, individ- 
uals experience something of the elevation or depression. 

Under this class of prejudices may be reckoned those, 
resulting from that contraction and halting of the mind, 
which is often superinduced by an exclusive attention to one 
class of subjects, or to one train of thought. When a man, 
who has been taught in one science onlv, and whose men- 
tal operations have consequently been always running in 
one track, ventures out of it, and attempts to judge on other 
subjects, nothing is more common than for such an one to 
judge wrong. It is no easy matter for him to seize on the 
true distinctions of things beyond his particular sphere of 
knowledge ; and he mistakes not only in respect to the 
nature of the things themselves, of which he is to judge, 
but also as to the nature and rules of the evidence applicable 
to them. An eminent mathematician is said to have at- 
tempted to ascertain by calculation the ratio, in which the 
evidence of facts must decrease in the course of time, and to 
have fixed the period, when the evidence of the facts, on 
which Christianity is founded, shall become extinct, and 
when, in consequence, all religious faith must be banished 
from the earth. 

<;. 405. Prejudices of sects and parties. 

In religious sects, and in political or other parties, 
prejudices are still stronger, than those of particular arts 
and professions. In sects and parties there is a conflict, of 
opinions, and not of trades; a rivalship of principles, and 
not of mere labour and merchandize. It is, therefore, an 
active, an aspiring competition. Too restless to lie dor- 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES, 46$ 

mant, it is introduced in high-ways, and workshops, and 
private and publick assemblies ; too ambitious to be easily 
overcome, it continually renews and perpetuates the con- 
flict. The prejudices, therefore, of sects and parties have 
all the elements of professional prejudices, embittered 
by constant exercise. They convulse nations ; they dis- 
turb the peace of neighbourhoods ; they break asunder 
the strong ties of family and kindred. 

The history of every republick, not excepting our own, 
affords abundant instances of the putting forth of these 
virulent and ungenerous tendencies. We do not mean to 
say, that a man cannot belong to a party without being 
prejudiced ; however difficult it may be, to be placed in that 
situation without being tinctured with those feelings. But 
wherever they actually exist, they deaden every honourable 
sentiment ; they perplex every noble principle. Nothing 
can be clearer evidence of this, than that we continually be- 
hold men of exalted patriotism, and of every way unsullied 
character, traduced by unfounded imputations and charges ; 
and which are known to be so by those political opponents, 
who make them. And it is a still more striking illustration 
of the strength of party prejudices, that we find the same 
political measures, advocated or opposed by the same men, 
as they happen to be in, or out of office ; or as the meas- 
ures in question happen to be advocated or opposed by the 
members of the other party. As if the men, and not meas- 
ures ; as if places, without regard to principles, were to be 

the sole subject of inquiry. The prejudices of sects have 

been no less violent than those of political parties, as 
may be learnt from the hostility which is yet exercised 
among them, and from the history of former persecutions 
and martyrdoms. Even philosophy has not been exempt ; 
different scientifick systems have had their parties for and 
against; and the serious and dignified pretensions of phi- 
losophick inquiry have not always preserved them from 
virulent contentions, which were not merely discreditable 
to science, but to human nature. We are told in the his- 
tories of philosophical opinions, that the controversies be- 
tween the Realists and Nominalists ran so high, as to end 



464 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

not only in verbal disputes, but in blows. An eye-witness 
assures us, that the combatants might be seen, not only 
engaging with fists, but with clubs and swords, and that 
many were wounded, and some killed. Not a very suita- 
ble way, one would imagine, of deciding an abstract, meta- 
physical question. 

§. 406. Prejudices of authority. 

Men often adopt erroneous opinions merely because 
they are proposed by writers of great name. The writings 
of Aristotle were upheld as chief authorities for a number 
of centuries in Europe, and no more was necessary in sup- 
port of any controverted opinions, than to cite something 
favourable from them. The followers of Des Cartes receiv- 
ed hardly less implicitly the philosophical creed of that new 
master of science ; not so much because they had investiga- 
ted,and were convinced in view of the evidence before them, 
as because Des Cartes had said it. There have been teach- 
ers in religion, also in politicks & other subordinate depart- 
ments of science, who have had their followers for no bet- 
ter reason. Such prejudices have been a great hinderance 
to free discussion and the progress of knowledge. 

The influence of authority in giving a direction to peo- 
ple's opinions is not limited to persons, who can truly make 
pretensions to some superiour wisdom ; it is also frequently 
exercised by mere riches, titles, outward splendour. This 
is often seen in republican states, where the people have 
the right of choosing their rulers, and of expressing their 
opinions on a variety of publick questions. It is well, if 
not more than half of the people in any of the smaller cor- 
porations do not, in giving their suffrages, fall in with the 
sentiments, however absurd, of a few individuals, whose 
riches enable them to make a somewhat greater figure than 
their poorer neighbours. But this is a very unreasonable 
prejudice. The poorer classes of the community, inas- 
much as they have but a small amount of property to boast 
of, ought at least to show in all cases, where they are at all 
capable of judging, that they have understandings, and 
poft&eftS and value freedom. 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 46fr 

§. 407. Prejudices of careless and indiscriminate 
reading. 
It has been remarked by men of careful observation, 
that those, who apply themselves most eagerly to reading, 
and do not combine with this practice a very considerable 
degree of caution and discrimination, are often led into a 
great number of errours. As they never pretend to ex- 
amine and to weigh subjects carefully, their minds can be 
justly thought to be no better than a mere bundle of preju- 
dices, although they may be of a l^ss tenacious kind, than 
those arising from other sources. If their author happens 
to be in an errour, which is very probable, as they take lit- 
tle or no pains in the selection of books, they have n<> way 
of avoiding it. Their only remedy is continual reading, 
which increases the evil ; like travellers, gotten into a 
wrong road, who are less likely to arrive at the place of 
their destination, the further they advance. 

Although many ideas are to be derived from books, and 
it would be no less unwise than unprofitable to throw them 
aside, they are not to he consulted to the neglect of our own 
invention and of that effjrt, without which there cannot be 
a well furnished, and well disciplined mind. It is easier 
to read than to meditate ; and he, who reads merely or chiefly 
because he has an aversion to thinking, may be a book- 
worm, and even be thought to be learned, and yet be far 
from reaping the full benefit, which he might receive from 
his intellectual powers. 

§. 408. Prejudices of presumption* 

It must be admitted, that there is a difference in men's 
Understanding?, that some, where the education has been 
the same, appear to have naturally greater intellectual 
parts, than others. Those, who are thus originally favour- 
ed above their competitors, are too apt to presume on such 
superiority, and to trust to their genius, wh^re care, pa- 
tience, and labour would be much better auxiliaries. Such 
men, who imagine, that their minds will not only be furn- 
ished with spontaneous materials, but regulated by a spon- 
58 



466 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

taneous and infallible discipline, may impose upon the ig- 
norant, but they make but a poor figure in the presence of 
learned and discerning persons. They will perhaps be 
found to have ideas enough, but there will be less prospect 
of their being suitably defined, compared together, and 
adjusted. We could not expect this with any better rea- 
son, than we can anticipate, that stones and timber, the 
ipontaneous products of nature, will of themselves, without 
labour and art, be arranged together into well constructed 
and covenient piles of buildings. 

§. 409. Prejudices of enthusiasm. 

Enthusiam always implies some object, which the mind 
judges good and desirable, but the pursuit of which is at- 
tended with a strong excitement of the feelings. In gen- 
uine enthusiasm the ardent feeling, which is exercised to- 
wards the object of pursuit, is supposed to be excited by 
that object exclusively, and to be free from any mixture of 
selfishness. So that this trait is in general an exalted and 
noble one, although sometimes attended with effects, which 
it is necessary to guard against. There may be enthusi- 
asm in literature, politicks, religion, the arts, war, &c. 

Persons under the influence of enthusiasm are subject 
to prejudices ; that is, they form opinions without a cau- 
tious and suitable examination of all those facts and cir- 
cumstances, which properly pertain to them. They are 
urged forward by too violent an impulse to permit them to 
stop and to analyze ; many objections, which come in their 
way, are overlooked or disregarded ; while every thing, 
that is favourable to the objects before them, is made to 
assume an exaggerated importance. The glow of feeling, 
the impetuosity of the passsions is made to take the place 

of cool and well-founded decisions. The scenes of the 

French Revolution illustrate the prejudices of enthusiasm. 
The object, which the principal actors had in view, the es- 
tablishment of freedom in Prance, was a good one. But 
hurried away by an excessive zeal, they magnified the dan- 
gers, which threatened them : while celebrating the rights 



ORIGIN Or PREJUDICES. 40*7 

of man, they violated the plainest principles of justice 5 bj 
arbitrary, capricious, and cruel acts they made even des- 
potism itself desirable ; and in the end, after great sacri- 
fices and efforts, effectually defeated their own object. 

It should be added, however, that the evils of enthusi- 
asm are in general felt, only when it is excessive. A mod- 
erate share at least seems to be necessary, in overcom- 
ing the difficulties of all great undertakings. 

§. 410. Prejudices of superstition. 

Superstition, as the term is commonly employed, im- 
plies an excessive susceptibility of belief, arising from, or 
superinduced by fear. We do not often speak of a person 
as superstitious, unless we observe in him these two char- 
teristicks, excessive timidity on some subjects, combined 
with too great readiness of faith in respect to the same. 
The term, therefore, may be applied to the idolatrous wor- 
ship of the heathen ; to many of the mythological and oth- 
er traditions of nations ; to the belief in witchcraft and 
magick ; to a regard for omens, whether of a political, re- 
ligious, or domestick significancy ; to an inordinate attach- 
ment to mere forms and ceremonies of whatever kind ; to 
any object or subject whatever, where fears may be enlist- 
ed, and where belief follows chiefly in consequence of such 
fears. 

The prejudices or erroneous opinions from this source 
have been exceedingly numerous. It is superstition, which, 
much to the disturbance of men's happiness and to the 
hinderance of the progress of the truth, has peopled the 
world with fairies and satyrs, with hypogriffs and dragons, 
with witches and centaurs, with the host of mythological 
deities, with marvellous sights in the sky, and with un- 
known sounds and voices on earth. There is no end to 
the catalogue of what may be seen, and heard, and believ- 
ed by men under its influence.- In the consulship of Pos- 

thumius Albus and Furius Fusus, " the sky, (says the histo- 
rian, Livy,) appeared as on fire in many places, and other 
portents either occurred to people's sight,or were formed by 



408 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

terrour intheir imaginations." (Bk. in. §. 5.) -"Before 

sun-setling, (says Josephus,) chariots and troops of soldiers 
in their armour were seen running about among the clouds, 
and surrounding of cities. Moreover, at that feast, which 
we call Pentecost, as the priests were going by night into 
the inner Court of the Temple, as the custom was, to per^ 
form their sacred ministrations, they said, that, in the first 
place, they felt a quaking, and heard a noise, and after 
that they heard a sound as of a great multitude, saying, Lst 
us remove hence." (Jewish War, Bk. vi.) 

§. 411. The prejudices of superstition contagious. 

Of all the sources of prejudices, which exist in the 
mind, superstition seems io be the most contagious. When 
once fairly started, it rapidly goes from house to house, 
from village to village ; and sometimes infects whole pro- 
vinces. This was remarkably the case in the witchraft de^ 
lusions, which prevailed in New England about the year 
1680; and all history affords instances, where this rapidity 
of infection has been experienced. When the superstition 
is thus extensive, there is a constant reciprocal action and 
reaction of the minds contaminated with it; and the evil 

is in this way greatly increased. In the year 1812, the 

freedom of the whole state of Venezuela in South America 
came near being lost by the contagious influence of the 
prejudices arising from this cause. In the early pait of 
that year a most violent earthquake was experienced, which 
was attended with very considerable injury to many iarge 
towns, and with the destruction of nearly twenty thousand 
persons. As this calamity happened on the day and hour 
of a great religious festival, it was interpreted by those, 
who were not favourably disposed towards the existing or- 
der of things, into a divine judgment, a manifestation of 
the displeasure of the Almighty at the wickedness of the 
people in attempting to secure their liberty. This idea 
was readily seized by the mass of the inhabitants, who were 
at that time ignorant and credulous. They joined in great 
numbers the Spanish army, that was acting against the re- 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 469 

publick; the patriots became discouraged ; and after be- 
ing defeated in a number of battles, Venezuela was again 
brought under its ancient masters. This disastrous result 
was owing to the prejudices of superstition. 

§. 412. Of superstition in times of distress and danger. 

The fact above-mentioned leads us to observe, that in 
all times of distress and danger the creations of a supersti- 
tious mind are greatly multiplied. Fear is one of the ap- 
propriate elements of such a mind ; and when difficulties 
and dangers thicken around it, nothing can surpass the de- 
gree of its excitement. Under the influence of the excite- 
ment of such dark periods, it notices many things, which at 
other limes would not have attracted attention. A violent 
thunderstorm, which in times of tranquillity and peace, 
would have been unnoticed, has an ominous significancy 
in periods of revolutions and wars. The flight of birds, the 
blowing of the winds, the rise and fall of the tides, the 
motion of the clouds, the darting of meteors, any of the 
commonest natural appearances arrest, and fill with as 
tonishment the minds of the superstitious at such seasons* 

$. 413. Prejudices of personal friendships and dislikes. 

If man were to choose a state of apathy and indiffer- 
ence, he would be unable to obtain it, at least permanent- 
ly; it would be refused to him by the very elements, the 
original laws of his nature. He is destined not only to 
act, but to feel ; and his feelings in respect to others will 
vary, according as he has been more or less in their com- 
pany, as he has received from them greater or less favours 
or injuries. Hence he has his sympathies and his dislikes, 
his favourable and unfavourable sentiments, his friends and 
his opposers. And here we have another source of preju- 
dices. It is so well understood as to have become a com- 
mon saying, that it is a difficult matter to judge, with per- 
fect impartiality, either of friends or foes. A question ari- 
ses, we will suppose, concerning the merit or demerit, the 
right or wrong in the conduct of a friend ; of one, in whose 



470 ORIGIN OP PREJUDICES. 

favour our sympathies are strongly enlisted. In the delib- 
eration upon the facts before us, which we attempt to hold, 
the mind is continually interrupted by the remembrance 
of those kind acts and excellent qualities, which have laid 
the foundation of our favourable partialities. They come 
before the eye of the judgment ; we attempt to remove 
them, and they return again ; they interrupt and cloud the 
clearness of its perceptions. And, hence, our judgments 
prove to be wrong. 

We experience the same difficulty in forming a just es- 
timate of the character and conduct of those, for whom 

we entertain a personal dislike. There is a continual 

suggestion of acts and of qualities, which are the founda- 
tions of that dislike. The effect of this is partly to di- 
vert the mind from the question properly before it, and 
partly to diffuse over it a misrepresentation, which has its 
origin solely in our own feelings of antipathy. Our 
dislike interposes itself, as in the other case, between the. 
thing to be judged of, and the susceptibility of judging, 
and renders the mind unable to perceive so clearly the 
true merits of the question, as it otherwise would. 

And here it may be further remarked, in connection 
with these views, that sympathy for sorrow, that the feel* 
ing of compassion for persons in distress has a tendency to 
perplex the judgment. It is true, that the perplexity and 
errour of judgment in such cases is an amiable prejudice, 
but it is not less a prejudice. How often people under- 
take the defence and justification of those, who are unfor- 
tunate and distressed, merely from feelings of sympathy ! 
Afterwards when their cooler reason is permitted to de- 
cide, they learn to their mortification, that the subjects of 
those chivalrous feelings and partial judgments were alto- 
gether unworthy of such unreflecting kindness. 

$. 414. Prejudices of custom or fashion. 

The practices of different nations, and the prevailing 
notions in respect to them, differ from each other ; nor are 
those of the same nation the same at different periods.— 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 471 

The modes of salutation in France are different from those 
of Russia; and those of both nations are different from 
the forms, which are commonly received in Oriental coun- 
tries. There is no less diversity among nations in the fash- 
ions of dress, than in the methods of civility, and of polite 
intercourse. The dress of a Turk or of a Chinese would 
make but an ill figure on an Englishman ; and the English- 
man himself would reject with contempt the obsolete and 

neglected fashions of his own ancestors. The authori- 

ty of fashion extends also to political and religious ceremo- 
nies, to the regulation and management of domestick af- 
fairs, and to methods of education. No two nations are 
alike in all these respects ; and hardly one age, or one year 
agrees with another. 

We find in the authority of fashion or custom a fruitful 
source of limited and erroneous judgments. Each nation 
passes its censure on the customs, that prevail abroad, but 
are not adopted at home ; each age ridicules the practices 
of a preceding age, that have since become obsolete. We 
have great reason for considering these limited and pre- 
mature judgments prejudices. We see no grounds, why one 
nation, especially where there is nearly an equal degree of 
mental improvement, should set itself up as an infallible 
judge of propriety and impropriety in the customs and 

ceremonies of another nation. But the fallacy consists 

not merely in ignorantly censuring others. The great 
body of people are found to be not more unanimous in 
censuring the opinions and fashions of other ages and 
nations, than they are, in blindly and implicitly adopting 
those of their own, however trivial or absurd they may be. 
They do, as they see others do; this method they have 
followed from their youth up, without exercising their own 
judgment ; and in this way custom has become to them a 
4 second nature.' 

Some respect is due undoubtedly to the sentiments of 
the great mass of people around us, although those senti- 
ments are acknowledged to be prejudiced. A sudden and 
indiscriminate breaking off from all their practices is not 
to be recommended. But then a greater respect is due to 



472 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

truth, justice, and conscience ; something may be sacrifi- 
ced to the weaknesses of human nature, but more must be 
given up to its nobler elements. 

§. 415. Correctives of fashionable prejudices. 

"Three things, (says Watts,) are to be considered, \h 
order to deliver our understandings from this danger and 
slavery. 

1. That the greatest part of the civil customs of any 
particular nation or age spring from humour rather than 
reason. Sometimes the humour of the prince prevails, 
and sometimes the humour of the people. It is either the 
great or the many, who dictate the fashion, and these have 
not always the highest reason on their side. 

2. Consider also, that the customs of different nations 
in different ages, the customs of different nations in the 
same age, and the customs of different towns and villages 
in the same nation, are very various and contrary to_each 
other. The fashionable learning, language, sentiments, 
and rules of politeness, differ greatly in different countries 
and ages of mankind ; but truth and reason are of a more 
uniform and steady nature, and do not change with the 
fashion. Upon tins account, to cure the piepossessions 
which arise from custom, it is of excellent use to travel 
and see the customs of various countries, and to read the 
travels of other men, and the history of past ages, that ev- 
ery thing may not seem strange and uncouth, which is not 
practised within the limits of our own parish, or in the nar- 
row space of our own life-time. 

3. Consider yet again, how often we ourselves have 
changed our opinions concerning the decency, propriety, 
or congruity of several modes or practices in the world, 
especially if we have lived to the age of thirty or forty. 
Custom or fashion, even in all its changes, has been ready 
to have some degree of ascendancy over our understand* 
ings, and what at one time seemed decent, appears obso* 
lete and disagreeable afterward, when the fashion chan- 
ges. Let us learn, therefore, to abstract as much as pos* 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 475 

sible from custom and fashion, when we would pass a 
judgment concerning the real value and intrinsick nature 
of things." 

§. 416. Prejudices of mental indolence. 

The catalogue of prejudices may be yet further in- 
creased ; it would be no easy matter to give a perfect enu- 
meration of them. Men often take up with erroneous 

sentiments, and expose themselves and others to all the ill 
effects of such wrong opinions, rather than submit to the 
mere labour of a thorough examination of them. These 
are prejudices of mkntal indolence. 

The mind, in the early part of life, exhibits much ac- 
tivity ; every thing, that is novel, arrests its attention ; and 
at that period all objects possess something of that charac- 
ter. After the fervour of youth has passed, this attivity 
generally ceases ; the soul, no longer stimulated by the 
excitement of novelty, seeks repose. To doubt leads to 
inquiry ; inquiry is laborious, and, therefore, painful ; and 
the resolution is, consequently, taken to harbour no doubts, 
to ask no questions. 

This resolution, so fatal to the progress of the truth 
and to all right views, is sometimes taken for another rea- 
son. Inquiry, and the suggestion of doubts on all long es- 
tablished opinions are extremely distressing to those, who 
have not been in the habit of careful and exact investiga- 
tion ; and who have, therefore, no weli settled and satis- 
factory views as to the powers of the mind, and the nature 
and degrees of evidence. To tear them from their ancient 
opinions is like the separation of old friends. It is in 
itself exceedingly trying; but there is a distress more poig- 
nant than that of the present moment, in the vaccillation* 
the tossing to and fro of the mind, which for a long time 

succeeds. Men have been frequently induced by the 

experience of this unpleasmt state of mind, which results 
from their previous neglect to examine and to form opin- 
ions with care, to give up inquiry altogether. They be- 
come unwilling to have their mental slumbers disturbed ; 
59 



474 ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 

preferring a quiet adherence to their long adopted belief, 
however erroneous it may be, to the endurance of the 
perplexing uneasiness of that state of skepticism, which 
intervenes between the rejection of old opinions and the 
formation of new. 

§. 417. Of the methods of subduing prejudices. 

It is no easy task fully to remove prejudices, especially 
where they have been of long standing. But in some ca- 
ses we cannot decline attempting it, without evidently 
neglecting a duty, owed to a fellow-being. In the dis- 
charge of this difficult, but important duty, the following 
directions will not be without use. 

(1) In attempting to subdue the prejudices of others, a 

scrupulous regard is to be had to their feelings. It is 

implied in the very attempt to subdue a prejudice, that the 
views in respect to that particular subject, which we our-' 
selves entertain, have the greater degree of correctness ; but 
even this implied superiority is not unnecessarily to be ob- 
truded on the prejudiced man's attention, but rather to be 
kept out of sight. The poorest man has his treasures of 
self-love, the most ignorant arid prejudiced man has his 
pride of intellect; and if that self-love or that pride of in- 
tellect be offended, in vain will be all attempts at a reduc- 
tion of their erroneous notions. So that a regard to the 
feelings and even the weaknesses of those, whose opinions 
we controvert, is due not more to the general claims of 
humanity, than to the success of the particular object, 
which we have in hand. 

(2) Having by all suitable means conciliated the pre- 
judiced man's feelings, the wrong sentiments, which he 
cherishes, may be attacked by direct argument. They 
may be shown to be ill founded by reasoning, conclusively 
deduced from propositions so plain and just, as to be ad- 
mitted by both parties. This perhaps will answer the pur- 
pose, where the prejudices have not been of very long 
continuance, and have not acquired a great degree of 
strength. 



ORIGIN OF PREJUDICES. 475 

(3) Where they are found to be very tenacious, another 
course is thought to be preferable. Let no direct attack 
be made upon the prejudice, which is to be opposed, but let 
it pass with as little immediate notice, as possible. Efforts 
shuuld be made, in the mean while, to instruct the individ- 
ual in those acknowledged truths, which have a distant, but 
direct connection with his false opinions. In this way his 
mind will be furnished with a mixture of truth and errour, 
instead of errour alone ; hereanVr the discordant elements 
will be carrying on a conflict of themselves ■; and his pre- 
judices will certainly be weakened by this inward contest, 
and probably overthrown. 

Note. Many writers have examined the subject of 
prejudices. A number of valuable remarks on this topick 
are found in Malebranche's Search after Truth. Lord 
Bacon, to whom the sciences ar? so much indebted, deem- 
ed the subject of prejudices deserving a place in the 
Novum Organum, where he has examined them under the 
designation of idola. Dr. Watts in his book of Logick has 
devoted to it a valuable chapter, and also made some re- 
marks on it in his Improvement of the Mind. It has re- 
cently received new illustrations and embellishments frons 
an article in the New Edinburgh Encyclopaedia by M. Si^ 
monde de Sismondi. 



476 



CHAPTER THIRTY SECOND. 



EVIDENCE CF TESTIMOKY. 



$• 418. Of prejudices in connection with testimony. 

From the view, which has been given of prejudiced 
judgments, one of the obvious inferences is, that great per- 
versions and mistakes may be expected to exist in testimo- 
ny. We have already had occasion to say something of 

the nature of testimony, and of the grounds of belief in it. 
(§. 237.) If the subject had not been of importance, it 
would not have ';een resumed here; although some of the 
Tiews just given admit of a ready and weighty application 
to it. 

As to the importance of this form of moral evidence, 
there can be no mistake. It not only influences our con- 
duct in all our ordinary concerns ; but is constantly ap- 
pealed to, in courts of justice, and in the most serious and 
weightv transactions. Individuals are frequently required 
to give testimony, which involves, in its results, the repu- 
tation, property, and life of their fellows. But we have 
seen, in the preceding chapter, in how many ways their 
judgments are liable to be warped ; and that this per- 
version may often exist without necessarily implying 

any evil intention. It is the object of this chapter to 

suggest a faw rules of caution in respect to testimony, 
drawn chiefly from those susceptibilities in our mental con- 
stitution, which are the foundation of prejudices. 

§. 419. Of the compet3ncy of the witness. 

Before speaking of these circumstances, which perplex 
and give a wrong bias to the judgment, a prior inquiry 
seems to be as to the competency of the witness to form an 
opinion on that subject, to which his testimony relates. 



EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 477 

Witnesses sometimes labour under a natural incapacity of 
judging, which necessarily annuls t! eir testimony. A. per- 
son, v\ho is deprived of the sense of hearing, is not capa- 
ble of test fyin# to the oral assertions of others: and a 
blind man cannot give testimony on subjects, the knowl- 
edge ol" which necessarily implies the existence of the 
sense of seeing. r i he c( mpetenry of the witness, there- 
fore, to judge in respect to that subject, on which his tes- 
timony is given, is very justly to be examined into. 

And in the question of competency, we may not only in- 
quire into the capacity, or want of it in the witness; we 
may further inquire into his opportunities of exercising that 
capacity, which he is acknowledged to possess. If he tes- 
tifies, ibat he saw an object or action, when circumstan- 
ces positively show, that he had no opportunity ol thus 
seeing, his testimony is as much invalidated, as if he 
laboured under a natural incapacity of sight. If, for in- 
stanee, it be necessarily implied in what he says, that 
he w::s in a particular place, but on inquiry circumstances 
satisfactorily show, that he v\as not there, then evidently he 
had no opportunity of knowing what he testifies, and his de- 
clarations are to be set aside. 

§. 420. Of habits of veracity in connection with tes- 
timony. 

People can hardly expect to hear the truth from those, 
who are in the practice of uttering falsehoods; and it is, 
therefore, proper to inquire, What are the witness' charac- 
ter and habits in this respect? — Of professed liars, we have 
here nothing to say. Of persons, who are in the practice 
of telling the truth, and whose habits are acknowledged to 
be those of veracity, a distinction may be made between 

two classes. 

(1) Some men are, in principle and in practice, scru- 
pulous. They have so long and so steadily exhibited this 
trait, that it seems to be inherent, something in the consti- 
tution. Persons of this character are found to be some- 
what averse to stating what has not come within their own 
personal observation and knowledge. When repeating 



478 EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 

the assertions of others, they do not incline to conceal their 
authority, but are desirous that it should be known ; and 
would not, on any consideration, convey a wrong impress 
sion. This is their general character, although there is a 
difference among individuals of this class, and some are 
found to be less particular in their ordinary asseverations 
and in testimony, thun others. 

(2) There is a second class of persons, who would esteem 
themselves injured in having their veracity suspected, but 
who have formed habits, which render it necessary, that 
their testimony should be carefully examined. We allude 
particularly to the habit, which some have formed of tell- 
ing - extraordinary stories, or anecdotes of whatever kind, 
which are intended, and are calculated to interest. They 
consider themselves in a measure pledged to meet the in- 
terest, which they know to be excited on the part of those 
present, and are, therefore, under an extraordinary tempta- 
tion to enliven and embellish their narration. If any cir- 
cumstances have escaped their memory, which were essen- 
tial to the unity of the story, their own invention is 
taxed to furnish them, since it is too late to search for, and 
of too much consequence to omit them. They become in 
time not a little insensible to the false colouring, which 
they give to their statements, and convey erroneous im- 
pressions, without being conscious of an intention to de- 
ceive. 

Such persons, when called upon to testify on oath, will 
be likely to give a false colouring to the most serious state- 
ments, similar to that, which heightens their discourses to 
their fire-side hearers. We would not say, that they in- 
tentionally do this. But those, who are acquainted with 
the power of habit, will readily imagine the possibility of 
their thus doing, without its being implied, that they are 
designedly untrue. 

§. 421. Of the influence of friendship, &lc. on testimony* 

Friendship is generally founded on our favourable opin- 
ion of the good qualities of those, towards whom we hava 



EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 410 

friendly feelings. In the ordinary course of things, no one 
can be expected to cherish the feelings of friendship to- 
wards a person, whom he knows to be a knave, or a hypo- 
crite, or in any other respects essentially bad. Whenever 
a witness, therefore, is called upon to give testimony unfa- 
vourable to the case of a friend, he will find, on a little ex- 
amination of himself, that his testimony is modified by his 
own previous feelings and opinions. This modification of 
our testimony, or rather of the belief and experience, on 
which our testimony is founded, is often effected with great 
rapidity, and in almost all cases by a process, to which we 
yield very slight attention 

Although our own eyes have been the witnesses, we can 
hardly suspect one, to whom we had ascribed so many 
good qualities, of committing a crime. We suppose, that 
we ourselves may be mistaken, and are led, both in conse- 
quence of our own supposed liability to mistake, and in 
consequence of our previous convictions of the criminated 
person's goodness, to give his conduct the most favourable 

construction. The publick testimony, therefore, although 

given under the most solemn circumstances, will corres- 
pond to this very favourable mental construction, which 
has been previously formed, and of which we ourselves 
are in a measure insensible. 

Such testimony may be critically examined, and without 
any necessary impeachment of the witness' integrity. If 
friendship have secretly taken away any thing from the truth, 
it is the part of the judges, who are the investig- tors of 

truth, to see, that it is demanded back again. The 

same views will hold, where dislike exists. It has an 
equal degree of influence in perplexing and prejudicing 
testimony, with personal friendships. 

§. 422. Influence of personal interest on testimony. 

The love of gain is a passion, which is greatly nourish- 
ed by many circumstances in our situation. As riches 
not only deliver their possessors from many inconvenien- 
ces, incident to a want of them ; but secure influence and 



480 EVIDENCE OP TESTIMONY. 

respect, we find one reason in these effects of it, why this 
passion has taken so deep root in the minds of men. An 
attachment to pleasure, and other modifications of self- 
love, are hardly less strong, than the passion for wealth. 

It is;he tendency and result of these interested feel.ngs to 
present whatever concerns ourselves in the happiest light, 
and to heap up arguments in our own favour ; and on the 
other hand, to prevent our bestowing due attention or or- 
dinary justice upon the concernments of others. 

In all cases, therefore, where the private interest of the 
person, who gives testimony, is concerned, there are two 
claims; that of interest on the one side, and that of truth 
on the other. 

The claims of one's own interest, which are so near his 
feelings, are carefully examined, and every circumstance, 
which could have an influence to make him act in accor- 
dance with that interest, has its full weight. Wh.le, on 
the other hand, we fe« 1 an indescribable reluctance to ex- 
amine claims, which we anticipate will be against our- 
selves; and ignorance becomes to us, under these circum- 
stances, a source of satisfaction. 

Persons, who are placed in this situation, ought careful- 
ly to guard against the powerful and sometimes impercep- 
tible influenc •, which is exerted over them ;— an influence, 
which is often pernicious to their understandings, and still 
more so to virtue. Those, who hear and receive the testi- 
mony of persons interested, cannot do justice to the p rson 
or subject, which th s testimony concerns, without making 
suitable allowance (or the misrepresentations, which are 
found to arise from this source. 

§. 423. Does the testimony come from a parl'san? 

There are parties in religion, parties in politicks, par- 
ties in neighbourhoods and families an I in lee I we find 
them in almost every situation in life. The feelings of par- 
tisanship, which are renewed at every meeting of our opp>- 
sers, and at the knowledge of every circumstance, calcula- 
ted to remind us of the existence of a controversy, are ex- 
ceedingly strong. Hence the prejudices of parties, which 






EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 



481 



are opinions, modified by these feelings, are tenacious, and 
conversions for one party to another are few. 

It is a remark somewhere made by Hume, that suspi- 
cions of a person's being your enemy is one step towards 
making him such. Generally speaking, partisans have 
strong suspicions of those of the opposite denomination, and 
hence it is natural to expect, that there will be much of 
an inimical spirit. And every one knows, how difficult is 
a fair and candid statement of the concerns of those, whom 
we suspect to be hostile, or approaching to enmity. Under 
the influence of this bias, those who give testimony may be 
expected to seize upon circumstances, unfavourable to their 
adversaries, and to throw other circumstances of a different 
character into the back ground ; and yet profess themselves 
unconscious of a premeditated design to do injustice. 

$. 424. Of the memory in connexion with testimony. 

The great majority ©f persons have sometimes occasion 
to complain of treachery of the memory. Facts, which 
happened some considerable time previous to the testimony 
given, may not be perfectly recollected. 

We may expect, however, that the knowledge of the 
circumstances of a past event will possess increased ac- 
curacy, when it appears, that the person has used such 
means as assist the memory, such as writing them down, 

and frequently repeating them. We may be directed 

also in our inquiries on this point by the nature of the sub- 
ject, to which the testimony relates. If the testimony 
Concern words or a discourse spoken, which are peculiar- 
ly evanesent, it is far from impossible, that the witness may 
not perfectly recollect. 

There are many circumstances necessarily occurring at 
the time of hearing the witness' assertions, which will help 
in forming an opinion of his powers of recollection, but 
which cannot well be specified here, 

60 



4S2 EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 

§, 425. On the testimony of the dying. 

It may not be considered irrelevant to the general sub- 
ject to offer some remarks on the testimony of those, who 
are thought to be near the period of their departure from 
the world. Such are generally supposed to utter them- 
selves with a peculiar regard to the truth. It is supposed, 
that the nearness of the future world, while the present is 
passing away from them, operates upon them with the 
power of the most efficient motives, and that, under such 
circumstances, they will not be guilty of falsehood. 

Great weight is undoubtedly to be given to the asseve- 
rations of a dying man, who is in the perfect exercise of his 
reasoning powers ; but then our readiness to give credit to 

them must be regulated by circumstances. If we make 

the supposition of the case of a person, condemned to death 
by the civil laws, the remarks, applicable to such a case, 
will suggest considerations, applicable to ordinary cases 
of death. 

Let it be supposed, therefore, that a person is condemn- 
ed to death, that he is about to be executed for some 
crime, but that he asserts his innocence to the last. 

(1) The first circumstance to be considered here is, 
whether eternal things have any real influence upon his 
mind, and whether he looks upon death, as about to intro- 
duce him into the presence of God. If this be not the case, 
if God and the day of judgment have no terrors, his asser- 
tions are no more to be believed, than the assertions he 
made before condemnation. It is generally supposed, that 
the dying utter truth, in consequence of the operation up- 
on them of motives drawn from eternity. But this suppo- 
sition, under the circumstances now specified, cannot be 
admitted. 

(2) It is to be considered again, whether the criminal 
have not some lingering hope of pardon. He knows it to 
be possible for this pardon to come, although it should be 
only an hour before the time of execution. To make con- 
fession, therefore, may be the means of destroying that life, 
to vrhich he fondly clings; and hence, if he be guilty, he 



EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 483 

here finds a strong motive to persevere in his assertions. 

(3) There is a third circumstance also to be remember- 
ed. It is sometimes the case, that men, who have been 

left to commit the greatest crimes, have within them, not- 
withstanding the commission of such crimes, the remains 
of truth, honour, and feeling. It does not necessarily fol- 
low, because a man has committed those criminal acts, for 
which justice demands, that he should suffer the severest 
punishment, that he never has moments of contrition, and 
aspirations after better things. A person may betray his 
friend and murder him, and yet, while in the possession of 
this dreadful obliquity of feeling, may retain the most sin- 
cere and devoted attachment to his wife and children. 
Without having the least expectation of living, he, never- 
theless, violently and constantly avers his innocence ; one 
honourable passion yet secures a residence in his dark 
soul ; and he fears a confession may bring a disgrace on 
his family and descendants, which a denial may possibly 
avert. 

(4) And then there is the additional circumstance of 

his own reputation The love of fame has been spoken 

of, as being 'the infirmity of noble minds'; ignoble 
minds also are beset with the same infirmity. It will be 
found to have made its way into the hearts of thieves, rob- 
bers, assassins. As the time has formerly been, when it 
was no small honour to perish as a martyr, it is possible, 
that this time has not wholly past. The man, who has 
been bad enough to commit piracy, may, therefore, 
have vanity enough to prompt him to attempt, just as 
he is leaving the world, an imposition on the sympathi- 
zing feelings of the multitude. And it is a real gratifica- 
tion to his self-love, to think, that, at such a time, he can 
cheat those into a good opinion of himself, or cajole tears 
from them, whom he would not have hesitated in former 
days, nor at that very time, if it were possible, to rob or 
to murder. 

We ought not, therefore, to be too confident, that the 
testimony of the dying is to be always depended on. And 
yet, notwithstanding these exceptions and cautions, it 



\ 
484 EVIDENCE OP TESTIMONY. 

would be pushing our ill opinion of human nature to an 
unwarrantable length, to suspect, in all or even in a majori- 
ty of cases, the testimony given at the period of death. 

<§. 426. Influence of the possibility of a confutation on 
testimony. 

The distinction between virtue and vice has its founda- 
tion in the original constitution of things, but men exer- 
cise the right, depending partly on their own susceptibility 
of judging, and partly on the information of the Scriptures, 
of saying what things belong to the class of virtue, and 
what belong to that of vice. Those actions, which are 
justly accounted vicious, are universally esteemed worthy 
of blame ; while actions, which are truly assigned to the 
class of virtue, are as generally considered praiseworthy. 

The man, therefore, who commits what the community 
unite in deeming a crime, forfeits his reputation ; he turns 
upon himself the eye of scorn and derision; and becomes, 
more or less, according to the degree of his offence, a 'his- 
sing and a byeword. 5 

Whenever a person utters false testimony, which is 
reckoned a crime of a very high description, he does it, 
knowing well the consequences, if a want of veracity should 
be detected. He will be likely, therefore, to inform him- 
self well of the nature of the subject, on which he testifies, 
and of the circumstances, under which the testimony is to 
be given ; and if there be a prospect of the false testimony 
admitting an easy confutation, he will be doubly cautious, 

how he utters such testimony. This rule then may be 

laid down ; — Whenever such circumstances exist, that false 
testimony may very probably be confronted and confuted, 
there is a corresponding diminution of the probability, 
that any such false testimony will be given. 

§. 427. On the credibility of historical accounts. 

Of the many errours, which doubtless exist in the great- 
er part of historical narrations, some are Jwing to the care- 



EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 485 

lessness, and some to the prejudices of the writer. The 
great majority of them may perhaps be traced to these two 
causes, to want of care, and to feelings, influenced by 
prejudice. These are points, therefore, of great impor- 
tance to be ascertained. 

(1) We may be aided in forming an opinion, whether 
the writer was, or was not sufficiently disposed to be exact, 

by considering the circumstances, in which he wrote. 

If the narration at the time of its publication was calcula- 
ted to excite peculiar interest, and if untrue, to cause con- 
tradiction, it may reasonably be supposed, that the care 
and scrupulosity of the writer will be proportioned to his 
exposure to examination and to rebuke for any erroneous 
representations. His own interest, (if we were deprived 
of any other assurance of authenticity in his statements,) 
is in such cases a pledge, that he will not make statements 
without the ability to support them. 

Hence we may see, how much credit is due to the wri- 
ters of the New Testament. They stated facts, in respect 
to which a very great interest was felt ; their narrations 
were undoubtedly very carefully examined, and as the 
facts were capable of the readiest contradiction or con- 
firmation, the prevailing disposition to confute them would 
have availed itself of the first opportunity to do it, if there 
had been any untruth. What writer, for instance, would 
have hazarded his reputation on the assertion, that five 
thousand were miraculously supplied by means of a few 
loaves of bread, had he not been satisfied of the correct- 
ness of the statement ? Such a statement could have been 
at once exposed, and the consequent folly of the write r 5 if 

it had not been true. We justly think, that we have 

good reason to admit the general truth of the narrations of 
Livy, of Xenophon, and of other Greek and Roman histo- 
rians ; but there are weighter and more imperative reasons, 
why we should yield our assent to the sacred writers. 

(2) Admitting the historian to have been sufficiently 
laborious and careful, we are next to take into considera- 
tion the prejudices, to which he may have been exposed. 



486 EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 

The character, which, Livy, the Roman historian, gives of 
Hannibal, is, that he was a man of great cruelty, perfidious 
and untrue, without any fear of the gods, without any re- 
gard to his oath, and without feelings of religion ; (inhu- 
mana crudelitas, perfidia plusquam punica, nihil veri, nihil 
sancti, nullus Deum metus, nullum jusjurandum, nulla re- 
ligio.) But there is reason to believe, that this writer 
speaks in this instance rather with the feelings of a preju- 
diced Roman, than with that impartiality and coolness, 
which may justly be expected from historians. If Hanni- 
bal had been born a Roman, possessing and exhibiting, 
nevertheless, the same traits of character, should we not 
probably have received a different account? Or if the 
Carthaginians had furnished native historians of their own 
battles, would there not have been, (and perhaps very just- 
ly,) more credit given to their own nation and fewer evi- 
dences of perfidy and deception ? — —It is a remark of 
Montesquieu, that it was victory only, which decided, 
whether we ought to say, the Punick, or the Roman faith. 

Among the men, who have obtained great warlike glory 
on this side of the Atlantick, hardly any name is more fre- 
quently mentioned and with greater emotion than Wolfe, 
the conqueror of Quebec. No one can read his midnight 
expedition up the heights of Abraham, and the bloody 
conflict of the ensuing day, without the profound ac- 
knowledgment of the heart to the intrepidity and valour of 
the English general. How often and how enthusiastically 
has his glory been celebrated ! 

But a comparative silence and dishonour rest upon the 
name of the Marquis de Montcalm, who fell on the same 
field of battle, the worthy rival of Wolfe. And yet he 
was no less brave, no less generous, no less devoted to his 
country and his king. The remark of Montesquieu will 
apply here ; — It was victory, which made the difference. 
Had the French general conquered, Montcalm would have 
been the hero, Wolfe would have been blamed for his 
rashness. 



EDUCATION* 



4S7 



Note. — In the remarks, which have been made, it is 
not presumed, that the subject of the evidence of testimo- 
ny is by any means exhausted. It is a subject, however, 
which, in many respects, has a close connection with the 
laws and tendencies of the mind. And it has been our 
object here, merely to give a few illustrations of it, ex- 
tracted from the great fountains of human nature. Any 
further than this, it could not with propriety be investiga- 
ted in a work, relating particularly to the mind. For a 

full investigation of testimony, and of other forms of moral 
evidence, the reader is referred to the work of Gambier, 
already mentioned. (See §. 262.) 



CHAPTER THIRTY THIRD, 



EDUCATION. 



§. 428. Of the meaning and earliest sources of education. 

By education we understand all the various methods, 
by which the mind is furnished with knowledge and its in- 
tellectual and moral susceptibilities gradually developed 
and improved. Education, therefore, includes those means, 
by which knowledge is communicated in infancy and child- 
hood ; the influence of the examples, which are set by par- 
ents and others ; the moral and religious principles, which 
are instilled either by books, or by conversation ; instruc- 
tion in the arts, sciences, and literature. As the process 
of intellectual culture commences with the very beginnings 
of existence, Nature has very kindly and providently taken 
taken care of it at an earlier period, than can be commenc- 
ed by man. 

The infant no sooner comes into the world, than its 
mind expands itself for the reception of knowledge as nat- 



4SS EDUCATION. 

urally as its delighted eye opens to the beams of the sun. 
It begins to receive ideas by means of the senses ; having 
no other effectual medium of instruction, than what is im- 
mediately furnished by the Author of its existence. The 
earnestness, which it discovers, as it turns its eye towards 
the light or any bright object, its expression of surprise on 
hearing sudden and loud sounds, show, that the work of in- 
tellectual developement is begun. Not one of the senses 
is without a share in this work ; multitudes of new objects 
operating upon all of them, become sources of knowledge ; 
hardly at any time, except in the hours of sleep, leaving 
the mind without occupation. The actions and words of 
its attendants soon begin to be noticed and imitated ; even 
its sufferings become auxiliary in the great process of fur- 
nishing the soul with new notions, and of unfolding its un- 
tried capacities. So that probably in the very first years 

of its life, there has been a gradual increase of knowledge, 
as great, when we consider that the mind was at first with- 
out ideas, as at any subsequent period, 

§. 429. Of the introduction of imaginary and false ideas* 

While the young mind, by the mere aid of that instru- 
mentality, which the Author of nature has furnished, is 
continually storing up important thoughts, it also receives 
false ideas from various sources. These erroneous intima- 
tions are not necessarily to be attributed to the imperfec- 
tion of the senses, or to any thing originally in the consti- 
tution ; for the child is now supposed to be arrived at that 
period, when the suggestions of nature may be aided, or 
counteracted, or misrepresented by parents and domesticks* 
In saying, that false notions may be introduced, we al- 
lude to the opinions, which children are led to entertain, 
of the existence of ghosts, spectres, or other imaginary be- 
ings. There is no want of true and important notions, 
winch can be made an excuse for the introduction of such 
absurd ideas ; and it ought to be made a great object to 
keep the mind as free from them as possible. 

The. greater. heed is to.be given to this direction- b§ 



EDUCATION 489 

tause permanently evil consequences are found to result 
from the neglect of it. The introduction of ideas of ghosts, 
&c. in early life ever afterwards renders one incapable of 
enduring darkness or solitude with any tolerable degree of 

comfort. Attention should be given, in the early periods 

of infancy and childhood, to the developement of the pas- 
sions. Those, which are vicious, should be checked and 
subdued, which can be done much more easily at that time, 
than afterwards. Virtuous and noble affections should be 
cherished ; such as gratitude to parents, benevolence to 
the poor, regard and love for the truth. 

§. 430. Of guarding against prejudices in generaU 

A superstitious belief in the agency of spiritual be- 
ings in the dark, which is early received, is only one of the 
many false notions, with which the mind is then liable to 
he impressed, by means of a wrong intellectual culture. 
The whole host of errours, which were mentioned in the 
chapter on Prejudices, may have their origin at the same 
time; even errours of a moral, political, and religious na- 
ture. It is difficult to assign a period, when the mind is 
too young and powerless to receive some faint notions on 
these subjects. Individuals can sometimes state, as far 
back as their memory can reach, circumstances, (perhaps 
and accidental remark, perhaps an unimportant religious 
ceremony,) which have had a permanent influence. 

Prejudices so numerous and tenacious are introduced 
into the mind in childhood, that it requires much pains and 
time in after life to unlearn the false notion^ to which we 
have been accustomed to render an implicit belief. The 
struggle against the influence which they have acquired 
over us, will be found to be a severe one ; and oftentimes 
it is quite unsuccessful. IV] any persons, who have been 
fully aware of the extent and evil nature of the tendencies, 
which were given to their minds in early life, have desired 
to counteract and annul their influence, and have made ef- 
forts to that purpose, but without effect. The seeds, that 
were sown in the nursery, and had borne their fruits in 
61 



490 EDUCATION. 

youth, had taken too deep root to be eradicated in the full- 
ness of years. We conclude, therefore, that it is a part of 

all right education, and the duty of all, who are engaged 
in instructing young minds, scrupulously lo guard against 
the admission of any th»ng other than the truth. 

$. 43 L Of an uniform devclopemcnt of the mental powers. 

It is a great object, to render the mind comprehensive, 
and liberal. This object is necessarily defeated, when 
there is an exclusive attention to one, or even more of our 
intellectual susceptibilities, to the neglect of others. Con- 
sequently, such a degree of culture seems very properly to 
be bestowed upon all of them, as will secure to them a good 

share of strength and activity. Some persons possess 

imagination in a high degree, and the k eye in a fine phrerc- 
zy rolling ;■' but the vigour of the reasoning faculty is en- 
tirely demolished. They can picture in their imaginations, 
no less vividly than the writer himself, the scenes of love 
and war in their favourite romances ; but cannot grasp* 
consecutive propositions, and feel the force of an argument. 
Others are mere reasoners without taste ; having the pow- 
er to conquer demonstrations, but without a soul to feel 
the touches of sentiment, or an ear for the harmonies of 
poetry. 

We cannot help regarding such an education, which 
improves some of the intellectual powers, while others are 
greatly neglected, as erroneous and defective. It tends to 
defeat the great purpose of life, which is not to establish a 
superiority in a few individuals over the rest of mankind, 
but to render all qualified to fulfil, in the best manner pos- 
sible, the duties of men, of citizens, of members of families, 
and above all of Christians. 

$. 432. Of diversities in genius and temper. 

Striking differences are sometimes discernible in the 
temper and genius of youth. It is not always easy to say 
what they may be owing to, whether to something origins! 
in the mental organization, or to some accidental circurri- 



EDUCATION. *^1 

stances, nor is it of great importance. In the process of 
education these differences should be regarded, and a pre- 
ference should be given to those parts of study, for which 

the mind appears to have a natural inclination. No* 

only individuals have mental characteristicks, which distin- 
guish them from other individuals ; there are also heredita- 
ry traits in families, which go down from generation to gen- 
eration. The members of one family successively dis- 
cover a fondness for abstract speculation, for all studies, 
which require the closest application of the reasoning pow- 
ers; whiie the successive members of another are distin- 
guished for vivacity, wit, imagination But while some 

reference ought to be had, in the course of an education, 
to these circumstances, and a preference should be given, 
in the selection of pursuits, to such personal and hereditary 
inclinations, there should be the greater caution in seeing 
that other pursuits, to which there is supposed to be a 
natural aversion, be not wholly neglected. The man of 
imagination is not to leave his reasoning powers to neg- 
lect ; nor should the lover of mathematicks forego those 
methods of intellectual culture, by which the taste may 
be quickened and improved. An exclusive attention to 
a particular pursuit, even when it seems to be warranted 
by the high claims of genius, would be inconsistent with 
that developement and exercise of all the intellectual pow- 
ers, which we conceive to be implied in a perfect educa- 
tion. 

§. 433. Of moral and religious education. 

It ought nDt to be forgotten in the early periods of ed- 
ucation, that man is a moral being, and that he is, even in 
the commencement of life, susceptible of instruction in the 
distinctions of right and wrong. The doctrine, which 
Rousseau and others have studiously advanced, that child- 
hood and youth are incapable of receiving moral and reli- 
gious ideas, has provoked an indignant and triumphant 
opposition. It is both unsound in point of fact, and most 
pernicious in its tendency. All experience goes against it. 



4i)2 EDUCATION 

In France, where it has found its most numerous advo- 
cates, its evil results have been very deeply felt. A re- 
cent French writer, who cannot be suspected of giving 
unfavourable representations of his countrymen without a 
cause, thinks, that the widely spread dornestick corruption 
and miseries, which he acknowledges to exist, can be cor- 
rected only by a greater attention to early moral education. 
This remark implies, that the origin of those evils is to be 
found in the neglect of such education. 

As a first great principle in morals and religion, let the 
minds of youth be taught, that there is a God. It is true, 
they will not understand his nature ; But does any one un- 
derstand it? Can the most mature and enlightened mind 
explain the mysteries of the Supreme Being ? But even 
children may have notions of God, which approach more 
nearly to truth than we are aware, although we are unable 
to say precisely how far. Let the existence, therefore, of 
the Supreme Being be carefully inculcated from the first 
moment, when access can be had to the mind. Let it be 
associated with the rising and setting of the sun ; with 
woods and waters; with that starry sky, which elevated 
the devotions of the Psalmist; with all the appearances of 

nature. When the young have become impressed with 

this idea, the natural consequence will be, that they will 
feel themsi lvt s under control and government, when ab- 
sent from parents, guardians, and instructers. They be- 
lieve, they remember, that there is a Being every where 
present ; and this belief will be f »und to operate as a pow- 
erful restraint on evil propensities and actions. 

Having begun with the idea of a God, they should next 
be instructed in suitable portions of the Bible, that great 
syste.ri of duty, submission, and hope. It is no serious 
objection, if they do not fully understand the import of ev- 
ery passage, which is read, or committed to memory. 
Something will be understood, which will be valuable in 
the end ; and the more so, because it will be associated 
with all the delightful recollections of early days. It is 
this part of education, which most effectually promotes in- 
dividual happiness, making life comfortable amid all its 



EDUCATION. 493 

roughnesses and trials ; which maintains peace in families, 
and affords security to the commonwealth. In general, 
no length of time, no change of circumstances wholly des- 
troys its propitious influence. And without it, without a 
belief in the existence of God, and a high sense of accoun- 
tability, all sciences will be in vain ; all other attainments 
will utterly fail of making men happy, and widely useful. 

Multitudes of illustrations might be introduced to con- 
firm the views of this section. How natural is the follow- 
ing incident ! And how agreeable, therefore, to sound 
philosophy! "When I was a little child, (said a reli- 
gious man,) my mother used to bid me kneel beside her, 
and place her hand upon my head, while she prayed. Ere 
I was old enough to know her worth, she died, and I was 
left much to my own guidance. Like others, I was inclin- 
ed to evil passions, but often felt myself checked, and as 
it were drawn back by the soft hand upon my head. 
When I was a young man, I travelled in foreign lands, and 
was exposed to many temptations, but when I would have 
yielded, that same hand was upon my head, and I was saved. 
I seemed to feel its pressure, as in days of my happy in- 
fancy, and sometimes there came with it a voice in my 
heart, a voice that must be obeyed— Oh, do not this wick- 
edness, my son, nor sin against thy God." 

$. 434. Of education for particular arts or professions, 

When men first flowed together into societies, they 
justly anticipated, that the wants of one would be supplied 
by the labours of another. As all could not devote them- 
selves to one calling, different pursuits were chosen by 
different individuals. In making their choice, they were 
influenced by a variety of circumstances ; by the wants of 
the community, by the wishes of their associates, or by 
their own predilections ; and hence we find the whole 
community divided into arts, or professions. 

In prescribing a course of study, regard should be had 
to the calling, which the person has in view ; and it should 
J>e suited, as mveh as possible, to promote the objects of 



494 EDUCATION. 

that calling. Jt would be absurd, therefore, for a youths 
intended for some mechanick art, to spend any length of 
time in the acquisition of languages, which might be very 
proper and important in a merchant, lawyer, or theolo- 
gian. But then we would not have such an one exclu- 
sively limited to those sciences, which have an immediate 
relation to his business in life. Let such sciences have a 

great share of his attention, but not all. Mechanicks 

should remember, that they are men, as well as artisans ; 
and while they must give up much to their work-shops, 
they owe not a little to their friends, to their families, and 
to society. If they are disposed to, they can save many 
fragments of time from their appropriate callings, 
which may be profitably employed in disciplining all the 
mental powers, and in the improvement of the social and 
religious affections. 

§. 435. Formation of intellectual habits. 

The term, habit, may be applied either to bodily or 
mental operations, and expresses that readiness or facility, 

which is found to be the result of frequent practice. 

By practice, the limbs of the body may be strengthened, 
and may be brought to perform a variety of admirable mo- 
tions. Rope-dancers, and the performers of the circus ex- 
hibit feats, which would seem incredible, were we not led 
to expect almost any thing from the formation of habits. 
The results of intellectual habits are not less striking than 
those of the body ; the mind can be raised up to its high- 
est excellence only by repeated actions. Many traits, 
such as a turn for punning, for diverting stories, for imag- 
inary creations, for close reasoning, which are thought 
to be natural, are caused wholly by a repetition of the same 
acts. 

This great law of the mind, that it is susceptible of 
habits, or that it acquires a facility of doing merely by the 
repetition of doing, is of no small practical value in the 

conduct of education. If the student would becomes* 

£ood writer, he must form a habit; that ib, he must acquire 



EDUCATION. 495 

a command of words, and a ready perception of what is 
beautiful or deformed in the combinations of thought and 
of language, by frequent practice. If he would become a 
ready speaker or reasoner, he must use himself to the task 
of connecting together his thoughts in arguments, and of 
expressing them in unpremeditated diction. If he would 
possess the power of framing at will ideal creations, it can 
only be done by a frequent exercise of the imagination • 

You may give to the pupil all the rules in the world ; 

you may succeed in making him fully understand the pro- 
priety of them ; and they will utterly avail nothing, unless 
he shall set set his own mind at work, and not only go 
through with a series of mental operations, but continue to 

repeat them, until a facility is acquired. Here is the 

secret of excellence ; in frequent, and consequently labo- 
rious repetition. It is in this way, that good poets, good 
orators, mathematicians, painters, &c. are formed. In mul- 
titudes of instances a want of excellence is to be ascribed, 
not so much to any defect of nature, as to a repugnance to 
the formation of intellectual habits. And this is much the 
same as to say, that in all such cases the true occasion of 
mental inferiority is indolence. 

$7 436. Of a thorough examination of subjects. 

There is great difference between a superficial, and a 
thorough education ; between a mere smattering, and a 
sound knowledge of things. Owing partly to laziness, 
and partly to the vanity of appearing to know every thing, 
multitudes dissipate their time in skipping from one sort of 
knowledge to another, and informing a slight acquaintance 
with all, without a full understanding of any. It is thought 
by many, that this is particularly the vice of the present 
times; and that there has been a diminution of laborious 
and thorough scholarship, in proportion as books have 
multiplied, and there has been a wider dissemination of 
knowledge among all classes. — ■■ — One part of education is 
the storing of the mind with new ideas ; another, and 
not a less important one, is the giving to all the mental 
powers a suitable discipline ; exercising those, that are 



400 EDUCATION. 

strong ; strengthening those powers, which are weak ; 
maintaining among all ot them a suitable balance. A 
thorough examination of subjects is an education, or train- 
ing up of the mind, in both these respects. It furnishes it 
with that species of knowledge, which is most valuable, 
because it is not mixed up with errours ; and, moreover, 
gives a strength and consistency to the whole structure of 
the intellect. These facts are highly worthy of being re- 
garded in the conduct of the understanding. 

The direction, which we would deduce from them, is, 
that the student be made to go to the foundation, the ulti- 
mate principles of every subject. Almost every topick, 
which is worthy of being examined, has its difficulties. 
The mind, when unaccustomed to patient labour, discovers 
a disposition to fly off, and not to meet them. This feel- 
ing must not be yielded to ; but however reluctant, the 
mind should be again and again brought up to the attack, 
until the difficulties be overcome. It is not to be supposed 
from this, that the student's efforts are to be limited to one 
department of science exclusively ; it is merely meant, that 
he ought not to be permitted to go from one lepartment of 
knowledge to another or from one subject to another, with* 
out thoroughly understanding, without going to the bottom 
of them. 

This practice once adopted will become in the end 
easy and delightful. The love of truth will be strengthen- 
ed, and become a mighty principle; the mind will approach 
difficulties with greater firmness and readiness ; and toil 
itself vvill no longer be a source of uneasiness. 

§. 437. Of a command of the attention. 

Those, who are required to follow the directions above 
given as to a thorough examination of subjects, will some- 
times complain, that they find a great obstacle in their ina- 
bility to fix their attention. They are not wanting in abil- 
ity to comprehend, but find it difficult to retain the mind 
in one position so long, as to enable them to connect to- 
gether all the parts of a subject, and duly estimate their 
various bearings. When this intellectual defect exists, it 



EDUCATION. 49T 

becomes a new reason for that thorough examination of 
subjects, which has been above recommended. It has 
probably been caused by a neglect of such strictness of 
examination, and by a too rapid and careless transition 

from one subject to another. Attention expresses the 

state of the mind, when it is steadily directed for some 
time, whether longer or shorter, to some object of sense 
or intellect, exclusive of other objects. All other objects 
are shut out ; and when this exclusion of every thing else 
continues for some time, the attention is said to be in- 
tense. It is well known, that such an exclusive direc- 
tion of the mind cannot exist for any long period, without 
being accompanied with a feeling of desire or interest. In 
the greatest intellectual exertions, not the mere powers of 
judging, oi abstracting, and of reasoning, are concerned, 
there will also be a species of excitement of the feelings. — - 
And it will be found, that no feeling will effectually con- 
fine the minds of men in scientifick pursuits, but a love of 
the truth. 

Mr. Locke thought, that the person, who should find 
out a remedy for the wandering of thoughts, would do 
great service to the studious and contemplative part of 
mankind. We know of no other remedy, than the one 
just mentioned, a love of the truth, a desire to know the 
nature and relation of things, merely for the sake of knowl- 
edge. It is true, that a conviction of duty will do much ; 
ambition and interest may possibly do more ; but when 
the mind is led to deep investigations by these views mere- 
ly, it is a tiresome process, and after all is ineffectual. 
Nothing but a love of the truth for its own sake will per- 
manently keep off the intrusions of foreign thoughts, and 
secure a certainty of success. The excellency, therefore, 
of knowledge, considered merely as suited to the intellect- 
ual nature of man, and as indicative of the character of 
that Being, who is the true source of all knowledge and 
the fashioner of all intellect, cannot be too frequently im- 
pressed. 

The person, who is capable of strictly fixing his atten- 
tion, will have a great advantage over others. Of two 
02 



493 EDUCATION. 

persons, who seem naturally to have equal parts, the one, 
who possesses this quality, will greatly excel. So that it 
is hardly too much to say, that it may become a sort of 
substitute for genius itself. 

§. 43C. Physical education or the regard to be had to 
the body* 

Although education, as the term is commonly employ- 
ed, has particular reference to the growth and expansion 
of the intellectual powers, the objects, at which it aims, 
cannot be fully secured without attention to the body, tt 
is important, that the physical system should be sustained 
in force and activity. And where this precaution is neg- 
lected, where the bodily constitution is permitted to con- 
tract diseases, or rapidly to wear itself out from mere indo- 
lence, the objects of education are not only not secured, but 
defeated. Life U short, ned ; the mind becomes inert; 
and oftentimes is irrecoverably prostrated. 

Laying, therefore, out of view all other considerations, 
it seems of great consequence, that attention should be 
given to the growth and discipline of the physical powers, 
as a mere auxiliary to the bringing out, and disciplining 
of the mind. 

$. 439. Of social intercourse as a means of improvement. 
It can hardly be expected of a professed scholar, who 
must spend very many hours in solitary retirement, that 
he will appear to as much advantage, as one, who lives 
continually in polite society. But the evil effects on his 
address and manners might be overlooked, were it not, that 
an awkwardness and singularity may be impressed upon 
the mind from the same cause. The feelings, the opin- 
ions, and the taste of persons, who have mingled but little 
in society, differ in many respects from those of the mass 

of mankind around them. To meet, therefore, with 

others at suitable times, to enter into conversation and to 
compare opinions with them in argument, may be recom- 
mended, as a part of intellectual culture. In this way, 



EDUCATION. 499 

new light may be thrown on many subjects ; the faculties 
acquire a degree of readiness and vivacity, which will turn 
to good account, when they are pressed by sudden emer- 
gencies; odd and singular notions will be extirpated. 

But if this direction be important to professed scholars, 
who are justly expected to remain much with their books, 
it is still more applicable to those, who go through a course 
of education, merely to prepare themselves for the world, 
and that they may the better discharge the duties of a man 
and a citizen among their felloes. 

$. 440. Of the education suitable to a citizen. 

There are some parts of education, which can be less 
safely omitted, than others; and particularly that, which 
regards man as having certain social and civil rights, or as 
a citizen. In all legitimate governments, monarchial as 
well as republican, the will of the people is law ; they are 
the source of all rightful authority, and the seat of judg- 
ment, to which it must render up its account. Hence 

there is a political importance attached to every individual ; 
not merely to the learned civilian, but to every farmer, me- 
chanick, day labourer. They may at times be concerned 
directly, and at the election of their rulers are always con- 
cerned indirectly, in the management of the affairs of the 
whole nation ; in the enactment of commercial regula- 
tions, in the adjustment of boundaries, in the formation 
of treaties. 

Every man should be taught from his childhood up, 
whatever may be his calling, or his standing in life, that 
he is a participator in these things, and that he has not on- 
ly the unalienable rights, but the unalienable duties of a 
citizen These ideas give to man a new character ; they 
elevate him from his degradation ; throwing the mind open 
to grand views, giving breachh and comprehension to the 
feelings, and honourable sentiments. We do not under- 
take to state in what way, or by the aid of what treatises, 
this part of education is to be conducted ; but only that 
an undue neglect of it is an unwarrantable contempt of 



500 EDUCATION. 

the calls of the age, and a violation of the demands of hu- 
u.an nature. 

§. 441. Of arithmctick, geography, mathcmaticks, &c. 

In the remarks, that have hitherto been made, we have 
taken precautions against the admission of early preju- 
dices. Rules have been given with reference to the insti- 
tution of a salutary mental discipline, with such remarks 
on the consideration of man, as a moral being and a mem- 
ber of society, as seemed to have a bearing on this impor- 
tant subject. We now suppose, that the merit- 1 powers 
of our pupil have become in some degree expanded, and 
in good exercise ; and there are spread before him many 
departments, which present claims on his attention of 
greater or less urgency. Something will be said on the 
study of languages in the next section ; a few remarks on 
some other departments of study will be made here. 

Arithmetics This branch of study presents claims 

to attention. The difficulties, which are to be met with 
in this pursuit, are generally not greater, than can be over- 
come by the minds of young persons. It affords a good 
exercise to the reasoning powers, and helps to form habits 
of precision, arrangement, and classification. In cases 
where no foreign language is studied, we think of no de- 
partment of knowledge, which affords a better discipline 
to the young mind. Very much, however, depends upon 
the manner, in which it is taught. 

Geography This science may also be studied at an 

early period. It interests curiosity; gives employment to 
the memory, and is a fruitful source of new ideas. Pecu- 
liarities in the climates of different countries, traits in the 
character of the people, and striking curiosities naturally 
fall within the limits of this science. It is probably not 
so much the fault of the science as of those, who teach it, 
that with too many pupils the knowledge, which they get, 

is a mere record of names. At a somewhat later period, 

some departments of natural history may be attended to. 
Treatises on plants and animals are found to possess a great 



EDUCATION. 601 

interest for the young mind ; and the information, which 
can be obtained on such subjects, is not less valuable 
than interesting. 

AJathemiticks In a course of liberal education, 

mathematical studies deservedly hold a distinguished rank. 
Many have thought, that if we would enjoy the use of our 
mental powers in all their perfection, we inustdevo e much 
time to sciences, admitting of demonstration. Such sci- 
ences enable the mind to conceive with clearness, by form- 
ing a habit of distinguishing one idea from another ; they 
quicken the susceptibility of judgment, and operate as a 

wholesome check on flights of imagination. Allowing 

to mathematicks the credit, to which it is entitled, it is but 
just to remark, that in one respect its influence is less fa- 
vourable. Persons, whose minds are exclusively trained 
up to demonstrative reas3ning, are liable to be perplexed 
and at a loss on subjects, which are not susceptible of 
demonstration Their minds have been so long guided by 
the evidence of intuition, that when left to the helps of 
moral evidence merely, to circumstances and testimony, 
they are perplexed and uncertain to a degree, which ap- 
pears surprising to others, who have subjected themselves 

to a different sort of discipline. (See §. 230.) It is a 

circumstance much in favour of mathematical studies, that 
they are subservient to the pursuit of most of the other 
sciences ; particularly of the different branches of natur.il 
phi'osophy. 

History. At a later period than the studies, which 

have been mentioned, comes that of history. A slight 
acquaintance may have been previously formed with the 
annals of one's own country, and perhaps something more. 
But a valuable knowledge of history implies much more 
than this. No one can have such an acquaintance with 
history as is desirable, without first informing himself of 
the characteristick properties of human nature. He must 
have studied the mind of man ; the intellectual laws, to 
which he is subject ; the motives, which influence his con- 
duct ; the passions, which agitate him. A knowledge of 
the doctrine of human rights, and of the principle! of na- 



502 EDUCATION. 

tional policy and intercourse are also necessary. History, 
when studied under these advantages, possesses the high- 
est interest and importance. 

§. 442. Of the study of languages. 

The study oflanguages, more particularly of the Greek 
and Latin, has long been made a part of education. The 
reasons, which are commonly given for occupying a con- 
siderable portion of time in this way, are chiefly these. 

(1) Much information is locked up in these languages. 
The original Greek and Roman literature is of itself high- 
ly valuable ; their poets, historians, and orators, are worthy 
of being compared with those of any age or nation. In 
addition to this, vast numbers of literary and other treati* 
ses have been written in the Latin language in later peri- 
ods, particularly on the readings and interpretation of an- 
cient authors, and on obscure and difficult points of histo- 
ry. A person ignorant of that language is shut out from 
the greater part of these important documents. 

(2) The intercourse of the world has been so much 
increased in consequence of the spread of knowledge and 
the facilities of commerce, that an acquaintance with some 
of the modern languages, particularly the Spanish, Italian, 
and French, is considered highly desirable. An entire 
ignorance of all modern languages is thought to imply a 
very defective education. But the languages, which have 
been mentioned, together with the Portuguese, have their 
origin in great part from the Latin ; and can be more 
easily and perfectly learnt by previously giving some at» 
tention to the parent dialect, than by attempting them 
without it. 

(3) No one, who speaks the English language, can deny 
the importance of a thorough knowledge of it. It embod- 
ies, and retains the vast wisdom of many good and learned 
men ; and is the medium, by whhh the thoughts and feel- 
ings of our own generation and of our own hearts are to be 
communicated. But in the knowledge of this language, 
the student will find himself assisted by an acquaintance 
with the Latin ; inasmuch as about one half of the words 



EDUCATION. 



mi 



in the English language are derived from that source. — — 
The Greek, which is a source of many English words, has 
a similar argument in its favour ; and the additional cir- 
cumstance of being the original language of the New Tes- 
tament. 

(4) The study of languages answers a good purpose, as 
a sort of basis of education. During the period from eight 
to eleven years of age, the intellect may be supposed to be 
developing itself under the mere guidance of nature. It is 
a great point in education to aid this developement, to 
keep the mental powers in exercise, and to promote their 
growth. This object is known to be secured by the study 
of the languages in a high degree; certainly much more 
than by the study of elhicks, history, mineralogy, chemistry, 
&c; or even by the more appropriate study of arithmetick. 
It is thought, that the object cannot be secured, in so high 
a degree, by any other course of study whatever, which 
can be pointed out. 

(5) It has also been strongly contended, that an acquaint- 
ance with any language is a valuable acquisition, because 
it opens up new views of mental character. The language 
of every nati >n is m >dified by the exigencies of the peo- 
ple, who speak it ; and by individual and national traits. 
It embodies their emotions, custo ns, prejudices, domestick 
and political history. — No nan, therefore, can m ike him- 
self fully acquainted with a new language, without having 
more correct and broader views of the developement of 
the mind, of the progress of men, as they rise from barba- 
rism to refinement, and of human nature in general. And 
these advantages can be secured by the study of the Greek 
and Latin languages, no less than by others. 

In view of this subject, all, that remains to be said here, 
is briefly this; — -There can be no objection to changes in 
existing systems of education, whenever good reasons can 
be showfa for making them, whether they concern the study 
of languages, or any other part of education. On t^he con- 
trary, systems of instruction ought to be examined into, 
and all improvements, of which they are susceptible, should 
be made. The above statements, however, in favour of 



604 EDUCATION. 

the study of the classick languages, show, that the advo- 
cates for retaining them, as a part of the methods of liber- 
al education, do not give this preference to them without 
some good grounds. 

§. 443. Of education in connection with the progress 
of science. 

The progress of education ought to keep pace with 
the progress of the sciences ; and when the sciences are 
advanced, and are spreading abroad their light, the mass 
of intellect, the minds of the great body of the people, 
ought not to be kept back in the twilight of former ages. 
It has been remarked and not without reason, that a young 
man, on completing his studies at a modern seminary, may 
have made himself acquainted with those principles of 
mathematicks, in the acqusition of which the profound 
Newton spent his life. A similar remark may be made in 
respect to all the departments of knowledge. The vast 
multitude of facts in physicks have been reduced to order, 
and all the sciences, founded on observation and experi- 
ence, have been compressed, as it were, into a smaller 
space. What was the extent, the ultimate boundary of 
knowledge in one age, and was reached only by the most 
powerful minds, becomes in the succeeding age elementa- 
ry, and makes a part of the rudiments of education. 

In conducting, therefore, the process of education, it is 
of less consequence to inquire what was believed, and 
what was known in the sciences in former ages, than to 
inquire what is believed and known at the present moment. 
There are thousands of treatises, which were once valua- 
ble and entitled their authors to great credit; but have 
now lost their interest, and have no claims to be put into 
the hands of the student. It is true, they are the docu- 
ments, out of which a history of the progress of the human 
mind is to be formed, but they arc out of place in those 
systems of practical education, the object of which is to 
enlighten the minds of the great body of the people. 



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